Spirit World Diaries
by Xynovitch
Summary: My chuuni-days are finally over. I'm glad I got out of that rut that was my inflated sense of ego, it made me see the world for what it always was, without the rose-tinted glasses of youth. Although I'm glad that I've lost that since—I found myself wishing it back more and more. Under restructuring.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

She danced across the moon above a lake.

Her feet touched the surface lightly, barely a ripple flowing from the tip of her toes to the outer rim of the moon. Her hand was raised up to cup moonlight, glowing as she did so.

A splash, an eruption of water, spiraling upwards from her feet as if to carry her to the genuine lunar plane above.

Down the spire went, and down she twirled again, her kimono puffing around her as the wind caught it.

Each time I visit this place, she's always there, dancing, being mesmerizing to any passerby that happen to stumble upon her. There was no music, so I assumed that she was moving to the beat of her heart.

I wonder if she knew about my existence. My being there, not who I was.

I mean, it's not every day a God finds the dancing of mortals enchanting. Even if they're as close to Tolkien-elves as they can get minus the elf ears.

Moving closer, I cringed when I stepped on leaves. They rustled, bringing her attention to myself.

"Uh, hi," I blurted out. I wanted to bury my face on my pillow. That was the most un-godlike introduction I did.

She nodded and waved.

"What do you wish of me Kami-sama?"

"Ah, I just found myself… uh… around and…" I found myself stuttering as her crystal blue eyes, one that I shall never forget found herself on mine. Her lips curled to a smile and I found myself lacking words to even speak.

"Yes?" She crossed the gap between us, in an instant as the water displaced waves around her. Close up, her face rivaled that of Heartia's.

Coughing, I brought a fist over my mouth.

"I was just… visiting to help establish the relations between the devatas and the dreamwalkers, that's all."

"Ah, you're here to see my mother," she nodded. Clasping my hand, feeling the featherlike texture, she told me to follow her.

And follow her I did.

…

To the inner sanctum of the devatas, I went. Up the spiraling stairs to the room that's always lit with leaves made from sunlight. Or so I've heard anyway.

I was before a throne, and there sat a woman clad in gold and all the jewels of the world. Her bejeweled crown glittered in the sunlight leaves. Donning her shoulders were epaulets stretching down on her form, covering it in a silky white cape.

My visit was unwarranted, and the throne room looked barely ready for the arrival of one such as I. For one, the flutes were playing, but there were no trumpets blaring the arrival song. Harps and violins and pianos, all of them sounded, but the trumpet band still hasn't arrived.

Then, out of the curtains came another woman, a dreamwalker. She donned a red uniform and golden epaulets and a red hat. Following behind her were the missing trumpet band. They formed a semi-circle around her, and she twirled to bow to me. I could see her smirking as her shoulder-length hair bobbed when she twirled around again.

She raised her hands up.

The banner of my name flowed out of the woodworks, its black and grey coloring contrasting sharply against the golden hues of the room.

The trumpets announced my arrival.

The woman that held my hand bowed to her mother.

I walked towards the reception area. There I spoke, my words that of God, and they listened.

"The woman that brought me here is now under my protection."

I turned to her, and her blue eyes widened.

…

Soon after, we corresponded regularly.

I told her of my adventures, and she opened up to me about her life prior to our meeting. Every day, I'd meet her by the lake, making my presence unknown. I'd watch her dance, a dance she does for practice as the princess of the realm. I'd be mesmerized and applaud loudly once she was done and we'd talk.

Those hours were the happiest.

I look at the sun that was rising above us.

She turned to look at me, watching sadly with those vibrant blue eyes.

"Do you have to go?" she said.

I smiled and patted her head.

"I'll be back tomorrow as always."

Then I woke up.

* * *

 **Author's note**

 **Uhh, the reconstruction is almost done. New prologue for new viewers and old viewers can enjoy a less choppy ch1.**

 **Massive thanks to The Mighty Zingy for helping me figure out how to piece this puzzle.**


	2. 1-1

**Yukino Yukinoshita Knows My Middle School Delusions, Somehow 1-1**

I think I should talk about where I led my life at this point. I've been living it well — as well as I could anyway, I swear for the buff to intimidate my eyes give me, it gives me a negative 500% debuff to charisma. Despite that, it was as normal as you could get.

My chuuni-middle schooler self would disagree with that on principle. But he doesn't matter at all. If you would ask him what he did to shatter the glass of normality in his life, he'd tell you of crazy missions that he most certainly dreamt up.

Source: well, me, obviously.

The fact that I had consistently the same dreams meant a lot to old Chuuni-me. It meant some kind of destiny — a notion that I later threw away. It meant that even if the world around me was normal, a dream was a portal to another world that I could always escape through.

It meant that, for eight to ten hours a day, I could be special.

Think of the days when you're parents and all your teachers had called you special. That you are something. That you'd be someone in this world.

Now think of you today. When someone calls you special, you'd think they're stupid, be annoyed, or worse-case scenario, cut any contact with that particular person. Unless you were a terribly narcissistic person, being told disingenuous things like that while the truth stares at you blatantly with disgust is something that anyone would be annoyed with.

This realization is bound to come to anyone, whether in middle school or in high school. No matter how talented you are something, there's bound to be someone more talented than you.

You're facing 7 billion to 1 odds after all.

The moment that one realizes that, is the moment that the world view instilled by everyone who called them special shatters.

And that moment could appear any day of your life — either gradually eroding you up — or having one particularly unlucky thing destroying you.

I had an unfortunate meeting with the latter.

…

Fortune favors the bold.

I don't think could remember exactly where I heard that phrase.

I remember telling myself that numerous times before going to bed. And when I went to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, several times. In the shower, singing, "Brave Song" **[1]**. In the kitchen, to the point where my parents were annoyed enough to give me more allowance than I had for the past years.

I recall muttering it under my breath at class, where my teacher threw a chalk at me, while I got laughed at by the class. I didn't care. It was my one chance after all.

When the bell rang, I didn't even stand from my seat as usual, ready to leave. In any case, I should've been the first one out, waiting at the bike stands for Komachi.

What drove this unusual behavior? That myself I don't know. I didn't know what came over me so suddenly. All that I know is that it had to be gradual for me not to notice.

Was it Heartia that suddenly filled me with overwhelming courage? Did she rework my soul processes to do that? I told her that I didn't want any of her help, but seeing that I was too late to turn back, there was no helping it.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine?"

"Hmmm?"

"I mean, you're going to be cleaning with him right? He's probably going to do creepy things with you alone right?"

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't be a bother," as soon as Kaori-chan said that, my heart skipped a beat. Thank you for defending me Kaori-chan! I knew that I had met my soulmate the moment my eyes were laid on you — the promise we had in the Endless Gardens underneath the Vaulting Canopy only sealed that fact.

However, the Agency has been pushing me to actualize our marriage in this Human World, my flower. I told them that the roots of our love is as true as the "root" in your name, but they told me that vagrants would cut the red string that ties us together.

So I shall be participating in this ritual called "confession"! And then show the world that we are indeed soulmates, rooted in destiny!

Yes! It was destiny that foretold of our union!

Kaori-chan came up to me, smiling a pretty smile that made all the flowers swoon in envy. She held her hands behind her, puffing out her chest cutely, and winked at me. "Let's work hard, ne?"

My body felt like it was in the Underkingdom's hottest lava pits underneath the valiant Mount Fuji. The residents gave me what they considered a hot bath that time when I saved them from the Mountain Troll's rampage.

I prepared to unleash my manliness to woo her once more.

"S-sure."

We started cleaning, I swept the floor spotless. Then I went to the bathroom to get the wet the mop. The floor was spotless by the time I was done. I turned to see Kaori-chan sitting on the desk using her phone. It seemed that she had finished arranging the desks and throwing out the garbage. Nice work, we make a good couple!

I gulped a breath of air.

She was staring fixedly on her phone. The rays of the afternoon sun fell on her, illuminating her soft-features and bright face. Her tongue was out and her thumb stopped moving, pondering something, perhaps?

I coughed.

Time to get this show on the road.

"Orimoto — no! —" said I, contemplating on where I should go next. It seemed to caught her attention, as she stared up from her phone with her brow raised up in confusion. "Kaori-chan," I inhaled, "I really like you a lot, will you please go out with me!"

I bowed down, my eyes transfixed on the floor beneath me.

Then, I heard giggles.

Then, I heard a scornful laughter.

"Bwahahaha! It's hilarious that you think that I'd even accept this from someone I don't know much," she said.

My heart shattered.

"You'd think that we'd at least get to know each other as friends, you know?"

We weren't friends.

"So how about it, Hikigaya? Wait until we're friends first, 'kay?" I heard footsteps on the floor, and after a few moments, the sound of the door opening followed by faint laughter by several different people.

A different voice from Orimoto called out to me, "Stop bowing already, you look like someone is going to fuck you ass from behind silly!"

"Sakura-chan, don't be crude," Orimoto said, once again defending me. Though it felt hollow. I knew she was just being polite.

The door was shut, and I still stood there, bowing.

I couldn't stand. There was a sudden weight on my shoulder, like the world suddenly came crashing down on me. I felt like I shouldn't move, that I was Atlas, and that moving would mean the end of the world.

I stood up.

And the world ended.

…

Afterwhich, the world around me seemed dimmer than what I've seen. The streets weren't contrasting colors anymore, like black and white, instead, I've seen it for what it truly is now. Grey. Shades of grey.

The world around me were in hues of darker and lighter grey, with some black splotches that showed the rocks.

When I walked home, I was greeted a dark and lifeless house. I didn't mind though, as the darkness embraced me, because it felt like it was merely welcoming me back home. And I felt something that I've thought that I'd left during the start of my second year in middle school.

Solitude.

And regret.

They've come back to me, banging on my door, demanding to be let in, and I ignored them. I built a wall around the door, so the noise wouldn't bother me at all.

The walls broken down.

And the doors rammed in.

…

The following months were hellish.

Day in and day out, my classmates, my schoolmates, even my teachers use me as the butt of their jokes. I was the clown, the sad clown. I never talked to anyone, but somehow, they still seem to find ammunition against me.

Maybe it was the culmination of my actions during my first and second years that they caches of it from people willing to give. I couldn't be bothered to guess who, though. My actions were horrible to even describe.

Each night I ate quietly with my family. Never talking about anything, and responding to questions only when my parents specifically ask me. Each night I'd sit down on the bathtub, with the shower overhead pouring down on me, as if washing myself this way would clean me. The water bills and the heating bills were probably high, but I didn't hear my parents give any mention to them.

Each night I'd bury myself on a pillow, wanting to escape this hellish world that surrounded me.

Each night, I'd dream of a hero fighting against all odds, saving a girl with fairy like features, in the in the Other Side of the World.

Every morning after dreaming that, I felt refreshed. Then the dread comes back as I slowly walk to school. I used to ride my bike to get there faster, just so I could greet Orimoto, but now I merely walked.

I felt like a fool.

I am a fool.

…

One time, at the kitchen table, my parents were unusually silent.

I think it was our second semester. Summer had just ended. Though I don't know the specific day it started, I did have the memories embedded in my mind.

After all, it was when Komachi started crying.

…

Seeing her like this, the beacon of light that radiated in the darkness in my life, break down to tears was off-putting.

I didn't know what to do.

There was nothing I could do.

So I listened to her.

"Mina-chan hates me!"

Who is this Mina-chan? I stared up from the plate I had. Everyone was silent, reeling from Komachi's words.

"Komachi didn't do anything… I didn't do anything at all…" she said between sobs. What didn't she do? I don't understand. What happened?

"Komachi is sorry," and with that, she left the dinner table, leaving three people dumbfounded.

I wanted to go after her.

…

The next day, I walked to school once more. I was earlier than I thought, as I saw my little sister pass by the gates. Her face was colored with apprehension, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

There, I felt my responsibility of being a big brother surge from my core. I knew what I had to do. It was honestly apparent from the start.

I went after her.

I stopped.

All around her, girls of her age, whispered while glaring at her as she walked through the door. Even as she left their range of sight, they still muttered to each other like a pack of barking dogs.

As I walked through the gates, I overheard what they were saying.

"Dirty girl."

"I hope she doesn't get married."

Ah, I see.

Rumors of her being a slut were being passed around like an ant colony in this school. It was despicable. Komachi was the purest being in this world, you all are the sluts. Shut up, you stupid shits before I get myself sent to the principal's office.

I glared at them.

They glared back at me.

It seemed that I'm still the social pariah, huh. The mutterings stopped as I walked by them. Then a shout, "It's Hikigaya! Are you still gunning for Orimoto? I heard that she's cuddling it up with the soccer star. But if you could catch up to him, I think she'd fall for you. You just have to beat him in a soccer shoot-off."

The crowd laughed.

The soccer shoot-off that I challenged the soccer star with when I heard that he was talking to Orimoto. It was a brutal one. It ended with me being pummeled in the face with a soccer ball several times, while being encouraged, mockingly, that I was doing a good job keeping the ball from the net.

I didn't think of it much at the time, only thinking of how well I was doing in winning over Orimoto. Surely, when she sees my blocking skills, she'd fall even harder for me. That was as spotty a logic that I hated myself now for thinking that.

Yet, with the constant laughs around me, I had an inspiration.

I knew what to do.

…

It was lunch-time. The sounds of music flitted across the hallways of our school, from the speakers on the roof. They use these speakers to announce any and every type of news relevant to the school itself. Though sometimes, guest speakers can come in and talk about something relevant.

During our one hour lunch time, it's basically a radio for middle schoolers to listen to the latest gossip.

I strolled down the hallway leading to the Broadcasting Room.

There I was greeted with two younger first year girls running opposite from me. They giggled and laughed about. A rage bubbled within me as they left my line of sight.

The door opened before I could knock in, and out came the radio host for today. He wore earphones around his neck and carried a stupid grin on his face all the time, like he was some hot-shot in school for being the radio host.

He wasn't.

He wasn't even on the top 30.

I was, however. My deeds were numerous enough to warrant me some popularity. But there's a difference between good popularity and bad one.

He looked at me startled, as if he just saw a ghost.

"I want to talk for a moment," I said, winking at him. Internally cringing at my actions, I whispered to his ear, "It's about Orimoto, I feel like this may be my chance."

I saw his face blow-up to a grin, his cheeks bursting with laughter as he tried to hold it in. I paid no mind, what I was doing was going to hurt me more.

"Sure thing bro," with that, he hooked me up to some earphones and a microphone and sat me down on the chair.

I bounced up and down. It was a comfy chair. Something that anyone would wish to sit on after sitting on hard wooden chairs all day. I rubbed the fabric, feeling it's soft texture mesh against my skin.

The radio-host looked at me, bringing his hand up to form an "OK" sign, before speaking on his own microphone. Suddenly, my ears blared with the timbre of his voice. "Here we have Hikigaya as our guest speaker. The letters segment would have to wait, as he has something to say to his dear, sweet Orimoto-san. Here that? He's got something to say for you, Orimoto-san. Without further ado, give it up for Hikigaya!"

He covered the microphone with his hand, and flashed me a grin.

I grinned back.

"I just want everyone to know," my voice started off small and light, as if I was about to bring in a confession, "that my feelings for her are genuine. To me she's something of an angel…" I stopped, readying myself.

"...that has fallen."

"It was true too. She's a conniving succubi that plays with the hearts of men, showing them her virtues and never showing them her flaws, being the perfect woman to lead them on. I hate her. I hate fake people like her. If I wanted a fake person, I'd go to the toy store and buy a doll made of plastic…"

I inhaled.

"She's deceitful, gangly and depressing. She's probably the most horrible woman you've will meet once you take away all the raincoats from her form. That's right, her heart is of a dead rat, her core reeks of dead rat, and her body was made of onion peels. Peel one, cry, and see another. That's how horrible she is."

I waited before finishing my words. "She is—"

The door crashed and I felt myself being taken away. It was Mr. Hirasaka, my PE teacher, and he looked at me with a disapproving frown as he pulled me towards the principal's office.

Around me, I saw people frowning and muttering, while Komachi looked at me in shock. She was nudged by her friend, who whispered on her ear, and grinned.

She grinned back, but even as far as I am from her, I could see that she was straining.

I smiled at her.

My job was done.

…

A blackened sky, the sun covered by the clouds. The air was heavy and cold, the road wet from previous rain.

Komachi stood in front of me, her arms crossed, and her face morphed into a menacing growl. I stood there, standing my ground. "You!"

I flinched. It wasn't onii-chan, or its other affectionate variations, but a rather rude form of 'you'. Still, I kept my gaze upon her.

She walked up to me. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" she said, her finger poking my chest at each word. Her height made it so that she had to stand up on her toes to do so. "Do you have any idea at all?"

"I've saved your relationships, my dear imouto." I grinned. It was a painful grin.

"You made them all hate you instead! You switched the rumors from me to you. Now everyone is talking about you and what you did instead of me and—" I placed a finger on her forehead. That stopped her tirade as she looked at me, fuming. I closed my eyes, collecting my thoughts, before countering her points one by one.

"They aren't spreading lies about you anymore."

Lies are spread faster if closer to the truth, I merely gave them something concrete to work on.

"They aren't talking behind your back anymore."

Rumors are more hurtful when spoken behind someone's back, I made my back the target.

"They aren't hating you anymore," I stated. I bore down on her, staring at her grey eyes. We had the same eyes.

How could you make someone hate you, when someone else could be hated more? How could someone spread interest about one thing, when another was more interesting? How could you sell grains of truth to a rumor mill when someone already gave them a harvestful?

Protip: you can't.

Besides, our plans coincided and I merely decided to kill two birds with one stone.

It was self-satisfaction.

She stood silent, her cute nose scrunched up in pain. She was reminded of the reason why I did this, and why I currently had the moral high. When it came to things like this, I leveraged my own experiences against her.

Komachi clenched her fists. "You can't take away Komachi's pain and give a whole new one!"

Hoh?

"And what pain did I give you?" I asked, genuinely curious. I took away her suffering and made it my own, what more could she be hurting from?

"The pain of having an idiot brother." With that she turned and left. The sound of her footsteps stepping on the wet ground becoming smaller as she went further away. I stood there, alone, my umbrella in hand.

The umbrella felt like it gained a few extra tons as I lost the strength to hold it. No matter, it wasn't raining anymore.

A lone raindrop fell on my nose. I looked up at the sky and saw it darkening even more. Even then, I couldn't build up the strength to carry my umbrella.

The rain fell like missiles around me, my head taking the brunt, feeling the tiny objects pricking my hair.

After what felt like an eternity, I shrugged off the rain and started walking to my home drenched. Komachi would probably be hungry by now, I waited too long in the rain.

I wonder what to cook for dinner? 

...

Opening the door to my room, I plopped myself on my bed. I didn't mind that my clothes dripped all over the floor on the way up, nor did I mind that my sheets became wet.

All I feel was a hollowness, and a sense of vindication.

To whom, I don't know.

I don't know.

Orimoto, the people talking about Komachi, or myself.

Was I avenging myself, by killing my image?

I really don't know.

Was I avenging myself, by trash talking Orimoto like that?

I'll never know.

I turned to my side, looking up. The harsh fluorescent light beat down on me as I searched it for answers.

I found none.

Sitting up, planted my feet at the side of my bed and stood. When I walked, I tripped.

A box was in my way.

That box was my life before. In it, my coat that had fur lining the collar, a croquet stick that I used as a wand, and a modified airsoft revolver. That was the top of it. Beneath it was probably the multitudes of adventures I wrote about me doing.

All memories, once I stopped dreaming.

That, I knew.

...

I was throwing away my life.

Inside a box.

And like that, you'd know that it was conniving with gravity to dislocate my arms.

...

Of course, it wasn't as dramatic as that. But my life was filled with unimaginative, undramatic things already, so spicing up things with sentimentality and wax-poetry was one way I keep it interesting.

That said, the things I was throwing out is dear to me.

Dear to the old me, that was.

The new me — the one that was going to attend high school and be a successful, fulfilled youth — didn't need links to a past I'd rather not remember.

The door opened before me and I cautiously walked out of the house.

Step one: success. Now time for step two.

The gate to our front yard barely could be called as one. It was shorter than me by a foot and could probably fit two people through, like the clothes of a fat midget.

However, now it seemed to loom over me. I gulped. The shadows from the gates stretched out, its arms circling around my body, constricting me, making it a struggle to breathe. Fog seeped out from every orifice seen and unseen, and the sky was painted in blood red, as if saying that God had been murdered. I writhed the entire time I walked there, wanting, no begging, the trip to end.

It did end, and I found myself in front of the gate I made fun of in my mind.

It needed thicker skin, I think.

Sliding the gate-handle to open it, wincing each time a shrill sound emanated from the ancient thing, the outside world greeted me. No, the outside world didn't greet me, rather, it's more like I came back.

I inhaled. Step two complete.

Relax, you made it out, no one is going to jump you. There are no people that could hurt you, at least not directly, because the police will automatically go to the kid's side in a scuffle. At least, that's what I think. If anything, they'd probably be in cahoots with the dude that jumps me.

A nearly deserted road, populated by yellow road signs and a few cars here and there, revealed that no one was even around to save me, much less jump me. The two ends of the road had no life, no essence that showed that people lived here. No garbage littered the sidewalks, no noise blaring from punk motorcyclists passing by, no corporate slaves walking around to go somewhere.

It seemed like a toy town. The kind where only the model parts were shown — that children would gaze at in wonder at the glass planes — artificial.

Dead. Unlived. Ideal town. Is what I would describe it.

It told me one thing though.

I was safe, at least for now.

I closed my eyes, gathering courage and my thoughts.

It's been a while since I went out. The first thing I noticed was the air being a lot less fresher than the air in the yard, but that's probably from the smoke coming out of the cars. Somewhere else, I mean.

You wouldn't find anything moving here.

Still, the smell was annoying. I hated it. The constant smell of gasoline and smoke, the itchiness of your throat, the moist that comes to your eyes — I hated it all.

I blamed the people who uses them too. The few cars in the area lookee brand-new and unused, but hiding within is a tank full of gas, and a driver who feels pride in having a car.

Corporate slaves and their need to own cars. Don't they know that having a car only quickens the inevitable doom humanity will find at its own hand a few hundred years in the future? Typical of them, immersed in their own lives, uncaring of the fact — or maybe unwilling — that a world beyond theirs existed. They should be like me, I make an effort to conserve energy.

I chuckled. Glad that was out of my system.

All worry left me. And once I opened my eyes, I see the world clearer than before I had gathered my wits. It was a good thing I did because this box is seriously straining my arms. Get a move on, Hachiman!

Grabbing my bike leaning on the wall, anr steadying it with my left foot, I mustered the strength to lift the box even higher. Holding my breath, I struggled putting it on the basket, as some articles of paper inside threatened to slip. Wiping my head of sweat, I climbed on the two-wheeler and kicked the pedal as hard as I could.

I leaned on the handles, straining my legs as I struggled to maintain a constant cycle. My bike was heavier than usual. It was probably because I never used it in a while, and now the first time I use it in ages, I use it to move around a heavy box. Yes, it's a combination of that and my not exercising.

At times like this I wished I owned my own car. There was certainly an appeal to it, mainly that I just had to press a pedal lightly and the entire thing would move smoothly. And I wouldn't be expending energy to make it move. Kinda hypocritical of myself to be admonitory to the others using cars, but I plead the right to be inconsistent in my head.

Doublethink and what-not is a must for society right now.

A gigantic shadow loomed over. I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of its top, but the sun was behind it. Well, at least I was getting close.

My destination was that black high-rise, for-high-income hotel building awkwardly placed right next to a residential area, with the only other commercial buildings near it being low-rise, for-plebian ones. It protruded like that one classmate you know that grew too tall too fast in middle school. Sure he may be tall as Mount Everest, but you don't see Mount Everest walking through doors.

Did I mention that the location was awkward and terrible? I did? Good. The location was terrible.

Why they decided to build there, I've got no clue. It wasn't the most commercially sought out spot, not many cars and people pass by it after all, and it wasn't anything special at all. It was just a hotel placed randomly near a residential area.

Somewhat boring. But I was used to boring.

The me from before would probably be suspicious on its origins after learning these facts. I couldn't care less now. It had nothing to do with me and would probably continually be that way.

I swerved left. The hotel block loomed like an obelisk as I approached it. The shining glass it was built from glimmered in the afternoon sun, and the advertisements for who knows what place hung from its side, blaring to the world uselessly in the hopes that someone would take notice on its lonesome existence.

In a way, you could say that it was attention-starved.

Heh.

 _But at least it's closer than taking the bike route to the actual recycling center and throwing the trash there._ I smiled, even as I felt sweat drip around my face.

…

I reflected on my first thought. Specifically, what I meant by "throwing my life away."

To throw one's life away.

It was something females would tell their male counterparts whenever they do stupid shit like drinking too much and waking up in a ditch, getting themselves in debt of a hundred million yen, or just plain lazing around the house while their fairer-sex housemates work themselves to the bone.

But it had a different connotation here. I was actively throwing my life away, after all. And I was doing it for the better.

Under normal circumstances, that sentence would be viewed upon in a negative light. Suspicious, even, if the person you're talking to was a detective. Even if you give context, the people whom you told it to would try to contradict you. I don't try to fault them though.

It simply is human to hold your own beliefs and adhere to it, and defend it if something threatens to destroy it. We're not dissimilar to animals in that sense. Some would say it's selfish to keep doing that, in some mere form of self-satisfaction, and to force them on others. They say it's evil, yet consequently do the same in saying that it's evil.

What they don't see is that the easiest way to stop that evil from spreading is to not talk at all. If someone was preaching a thing you don't agree on, you ignore them and move along.

You don't need to enable people. Those who enable people, those who are liars and hypocrites, those who see the world with two heads, they're the true wrongdoers. It's especially more disgusting if they try to put a positive motivation on what they're doing.

To put it simply, all it takes is one positive thing to turn something so horrendously negative into a good thing.

So instead of saying just "I'm throwing my life away," and then getting bombarded by uncomfortable questions, one could just say, "For the better, I'm throwing my life away."

It makes one sound like a martyr. Self-sacrificing and improving. All traits humans find so compelling.

Yes, language is that easy. Third-ranked in Japanese here.

I turned my head up, seeing that the rest of the way was straight and empty. I don't know why I did this. Hell, I knew it was dangerous to do this. But maybe I'll find out.

That one quote, "The heavens provide all the answers lost lambs seek." popped up in my head.

Or something like that, I may have butchered it.

The sun was cast overhead above the vaulting blue sky that carried within floating white fluffy clouds, while an ivory airplane streaked across without a care in the world. I squinted at it for a few moments more, watching as the airplane hid behind a cloud, before sighing. I focused straight ahead, turning slightly as I noticed that I was moving slightly too close to the sidewalk.

It provided no answers.

But it didn't matter, I already knew the answer.

A small crack on the road I didn't see while I was busy getting acquainted with the sky above me appeared. The bike I was riding bumped and the box bounced and bobbed on the basket. Reminded of what I was doing, I hurried along.

…

It wasn't a decision I took lightly.

I've been dreading this moment several weeks ago. It's been in my head for every waking moment in my life, and every sleeping moment, too. You could say that it was like that one stalker ex-girlfriend that "everyone" had at some point — I didn't, by the way. King of the eyes of the main character, or even eating a compulsive snack and then finishing it. You'd be left wanting for more.

I turned a corner. I reached the back of the building. Halting, I pulled the brakes on my bike, and kicked the stand up. I took the box from the basket in front of my bike, walking briskly. I concentrated on the pile before me.

THERE IT WAS BEFORE ME, THE MOUNTAIN WHERE LOST ITEMS—

Okay stop.

 _You've gotta cure yourself Hachiman, delude yourself any longer and you parents will force you to attend those therapy sessions.  
_  
I know.

 _This has gone far too long.  
_  
I know, thanks for looking out for me, me.

 _I didn't do this for you, me.  
_  
Don't be such a tsundere, me. I shook my head.

Let's try this again.

There it was, a pile of unremarkable trash. Consisting of mostly old newspaper, boxes and thrown away textbooks, it was truly a sight to behold. One could find a treasure trove of knowledge here, or maybe some arts and crafts material — either way, the truck will be arriving soon to take that pile of used paper and transform it to something useful if you can't

Which was why I took today of all days to throw these out. I wouldn't want anyone to see what I did after all.

I sound like a murderer.

Heh.

...

If there was a last time I'm able to see the box, then that time is now. I found myself stopping, my feet no longer carrying me, and staring at the box I held in my hands. It was heavy.

Notebooks, my old paper mache gear and statues, the drawing pad filled with manga I drew, the only bits of happiness from middle school I had.

Chuunibyou was something that caught me in my darkest moments and shoved me to where I couldn't go to before.

It made me confident, even if it was false.

It made me strong, even if the strength was borrowed.

It made me learn, even if I had to go through pains to do so.

An old memory played out in my mind, the details were mere splotches of color and hue, stuttering like a film from the 1920s.

 _Starlight broke through the sky, and for a brief moment, it seemed that the moon had siblings. I raised my hands up as if to hold the heavens. Suddenly, the world was drenched in unbearable white-heat. I dodged, watching as the first star miss my nose by a few millimeters.  
_  
I smiled. I couldn't help it. It was my first successful mission, after awakening my powers and finding out that I'm the 'vessel' for the Eternally Absent Nameless God. It was a great memory.

It wasn't true though.

What really happened was.

 _"Oi, stop standing there like an idiot with your hands up," Takanaka-san, a boy with a rotten pumpkin for hair, crossed his arms. "Are you tryin' ta get hit or something?" His eyes widened. "Look out!"_

 _I faced forward, only to find myself careening down to the floor, and my nose slightly in pain. I looked up, and saw Takanaka-san shaking his head. "Why do you keep doing this every time we play dodgeball?"_

I sighed. This was only one of the other painful memories I had. And it wasn't even the most painful trauma. I had more memories more painful than that, and more significant too. They were great teachers. Unfortunately, each time I'm reminded of them, my stomach convulses and I feel light-headed.

Which is why I had to do this. So I don't suddenly die of shame. I had to throw away every memory. I glanced at the box I carried while I neared the pile of paper. It had everything in it.

All in this secret box.

This is not Patrick, by the way.

A grandiose voice echoed throughout my head, followed by the words I've repeated to myself daily:  
 _  
"The Eternally Absent Nameless God—_

 _Unknown to all but himself_

 _With eyes that know one's true-self."_

I feel my cheeks tug unintentionally at the memory. I realized, I'm smiling. Paradoxical as it was for one to feel so embarrassed, and then smile afterwards — because logically, it made no sense. But memories were subject to the emotions you had of the time. Taking that to account, it was inevitable for me to smile when a memory of my delusional selves delusion of my own voice echoes through my head, like a delusion

That's too many usages of the word 'delusion' in one sentence, I should be ashamed.

Anyway, along with the nostalgia associated with memories, it was a combo not even the Konami Code could save you from. **[2]**

Although another argument was that if you were embarrassed by something that means that you were hurt somewhere, so smiling when you feel hurt was masochistic.

I let down the smile on my face and relaxed. I don't want anyone to call me Koizumi any time soon, after all. **[3]**

Thinking back on it, the trip to the recycling area was just like life.

No demons coming through the World of Gates to terrorize the living.

No mystery needed to be solved.

Hell, none of my former' comrades' wanting to ask advice interrupted my eventful walk.

Life was banal. It's an axiomatic truth, and something no one could ignore even if they deluded themselves to insanity.

But words can't describe how it actually felt. It was real after all.

It wasn't as exciting as my dreams. Those were fantasy. Hell, it couldn't even come close to it.

But… it's better than living a lie.

I released a breath I didn't know I kept. It somehow carried with it the strength within my arms as they sagged. Though it was nice that I managed to make it to the pile before then. I placed the box on top of the pile, my fingers slipping from its bumpy texture ever so slowly — it felt like a mistake doing this, but I held on.

Step three: complete.

Closing my eyes, I let the winter breeze caress my face, the clawy, frost-biting hands burning my face.

I turned and walked away.

Then I stopped. Scanning the vicinity around me, spinning 360 degrees to make sure every spot has been thoroughly dealt with, searching for any eavesdroppers or bystanders, I moved towards the box resting atop of a pile of other boxes. Leaning forward, I picked up the Future Diary.

There was something I needed to do before I go.

You'd think that I took this name from a certain anime with a yandere pinkette [4]. Suffice to say that wasn't the case, I had only watched it recently at the recommendation of my friend after all. The name was totally original on my part, I swear!

This Diary was named the Future Diary because of the simple fact that it's a notebook that I've written nothing on. The me from the past thought that his adventures would never end, that he'd continually be the Absent Nameless God, that his exploits would be eternally propagating. That's why he bought this notebook and written nothing on it: it symbolized the story's end.

Which kind of makes the whole 'future' thing redundant, but who am I to judge Middle Schooler Hikigaya Hachiman.

Still, I need to finish this.

Taking a pencil out of my uniform's breast pocket, crouched and wrote on the first page.

I recollected my dream last night.

...

 _I stood atop of the world, envied by all below me—_

 _Laughter: the sound one makes when happy. It was a sound that I never heard come from myself genuinely. It was a sound that I wanted to hear._

 _It was all around me. People of all different strokes of life, banding together to parade whatever sentimentality their grandparents' grandparents' grandparents had on this particular day, enjoyed themselves… and each other… making this sound. The happiness on their eyes as bright as the blazing pyre in the middle, and I found myself yearning for a chance at that happiness._

 _I wanted it._

 _I needed it._

 _Their happiness, one that the creatures hoard for themselves so selfishly, that's what I look for. It was pyrite, Fool's Gold, a wish from a fool like me, but it was all that I have - after she left me._

 _The urge to become human, to find companionship, to end my lonely existence, to be free of my fantasies welled up in my stomach, and the sudden heaviness had my legs become like soggy noodles. I could barely stand._

 _I looked at my hands, and saw the markings that told me of my divine heritage. It also showed me my curse, the chain that held me from attaining true happiness. It was glaring at me, as if challenging me to take it away, to grasp the chance of happiness that is fleeting: to become mortal._

 _I ripped it away, and my powers left me, and my mortality came back to hug me, as if a mother greeting her son home. Darkness crept up, and my body became too heavy for my legs to support. The ground was nearing closer, my mind spun like hurricanes, everything was blurry and vague, my thoughts muddy._

 _There was one thing crystal in my head though, one thought:_

 _—I envied them more._

...

There. I had nothing else to write.

Snapping the notebook shut, I put it back on the box. It, along with the box, shall forever be erased, and then the Eternally Absent Nameless God shall finally live his life, free from his past, the way he wanted it all to end.

That's a fitting end if I say so myself.

And for the last time, turned and walked away. And while the sound of a cat's screech followed by something hollow being hit rounded off the walls of the narrow alley tickling my chuunibyou, I merely ignored it and walked away. That life of mine was over.

I'd never been more wrong in my life.


	3. 1-2

**Yukinoshita Yukino Knows My Middle School Delusions, Somehow 1-2**

I crack open my eyes, turning to face the balcony I had opened before to let the cool air in while I slept. The wind howled stronger by the minute, the curtains flapped around wildly. It was because of this I couldn't sleep any longer.

The constant clapping sound echoed throughout the one person auditorium that was my room. Which is fine, I usually don't do much singing anyway. Though I wish Komachi would come grace my room with her singing voice once in a while. With the clapping sound around, she'll finally have an audience that's not sour like me. But alas, that wasn't the case.

The incessant howling and applauding grew stronger as it pierced my ears. I covered my head underneath my pillow, screaming silently.

There wasn't even a performance! Unless you count my life one big performance in tragedy.

At this point you might ask me, "Why don't you just close the door Hachiman?" to which I will reply with three consistent, logically well-thought reasons.

Reason one: I'd need to stand up and walk there myself. Whenever I stand up in the morning, my brain switches to wake up mode, which makes closing the door to keep sleeping redundant.

Reason two: I might get hurt by the constant slap dance my two curtains enjoyed themselves in. Same reason as number one.

Reason three…reason three was that I didn't want to look at the clock right now.

Soft sunlight slithered through the sashaying curtains as the wind died down. The gods just wants to fuck with me even more, huh. They make me unable to sleep again for an arbitrary period of time by making loud noises, and then stop when the first rays of the morning star's light peeks through the curtain.

No!

The sun continued to rise. Mother Nature continued its routine unopposed. I hate it.

Fuck you!

The winds suddenly picked up once more, and a faint whisper in the wind chimed in, sounding suspiciously like, "Fuck you too, pal."

"I'm not your pal, bud." I cringed at my thoughtless usage of the word "bud". Am I turning riajuu? Is it too late to turn back? Will I have to give up some aspects of my life because of this?

If so, I'd like to say that I wholeheartedly give everything to my dear sister Komachi. May you find forgiveness in my belongings.

…

Seeing that I wouldn't be able to sleep any longer, if I didn't want to be late to school, I went downstairs to the kitchen to fix up a breakfast for the family.

It wasn't anything special, the only meal I could decently say that I make excellently would be curry. By decently, I meant that like a normal person and not a hardcore narcissist. I didn't need to lie after all.

…

"Onii-chan?" the sleepy voice of my imouto rang like wind chimes. "What are you doing here so early?"

She stood in front of the hallway kitchen door, rubbing her gunmetal grey eyes. Her oversized sleeping shirt — wait, is that mine?! — hung loosely on her tiny frame while her dark head of hair seemed to have had birds nesting on it last night.

"Can't your onii-chan wake up early himself?" I retorted as I chopped up carrots into tiny bite-sized pieces. My dear sister, you underestimate my power.

…

Silence befell the room. Only the sound of boiling water and the ratting of the knife against the chopping board could be heard. I focused on the task of cooking a meal for my family, but I couldn't help but bob my head to the rhythms.

A scratching sound reverberated throughout the kitchen, breaking my beat. Komachi must've pulled the kitchen chair without lifting it. Mou, imouto-chan, you broke your onii-chan's groove! Now you must be punished with 21 questions.

"Excited for the new school year?" I said, putting the chopped vegetables in the water. I turned down the heat, covered the top, and washed my hands. Then I moved towards the counter where I hid my secret ingredient.

None. I had no secret ingredients left. Damn it.

I bet mom has some, I doubt that she'd mind if I appropriated some for the greater good.

"Nothing to mind about, onii-chan. Komachi is fine." My attempt at conversing with her is wrong, as expected. Oh, imouto-chan, why must you wound me so.

I sighed. After rummaging through the shelf, I found where my mother hid her stash. I went back to the now simmering pot of veggies and meats and curry spices, and put my own secret addon that no one has figured out yet — but love nonetheless.

Closing the pot once more, I stared at its boiling surface. My own reflection, in the dim light of the early morning orange hue, reflected against the ephemerally existing bubbles. The bubbles themselves were yellow, of course. Maybe I saw the color of the bubbles instead of the morning dawn? I don't know, too complicated. They disappeared far too quickly to get an accurate glimpse anyway, but I saw what I needed to see.

Myself.

I felt a weight descend upon my shoulders, my breathing labored as I glared down on the pockets of air blinking in and out of existence, as if I was searching the ultimate truth to the universe with my poor imitation of Azathoth form **[5]**. Why was I…?

The scoop hanging on the wall caught sunlight and threw it on my eye. I rubbed my eyes, and amidst the blur and the distortion from the rounded surface, I found my answer. In the middle of it, was my dear sister.

The realization struck me. My eyes grew even dimmer, judging from the reflection. It was the opposite of what the usual reaction would be, but I'm terribly glad that it was that instead of something obvious like eyes growing to be wide as saucers.

The problem was at the focus of my mind.

It seemed as we grew older, she grew more distant.

But I can't blame the problem we had on that.

I can't really blame her for that also.

I wasn't the best older-brother in any sense of the word. I may have 14 years of experience in raising her, but as there were bad parents m, there were bad older siblings. There was a reason why she calls me gomii-chan after all, and while she does it to joke around before, it held a far more sinister contempt now.

Though I can say that we have a normal, albeit distant sibling relationship nowadays. Which is fine. I'll take it. Besides, lots of siblings tend to have a falling out by them time one of them reaches puberty. Source: M— err, my friend's brother's cousin, who has coincidentally the same handsome face and lonesome eyes as moi. In fact, I'd even say we're twins separated at birth, and only through meeting with a mutual friend did we meet again.

Though it's sad that he isn't my twin sister **[6]**.

They aren't me though. I will always love Komachi.

No matter how much she hates me.

I can only blame myself.

…

My mother's slim frame entered the kitchen. Her inky dark hair was as frazzled as an angry cat — like when Kamakura was going under puberty — but unlike my sister, my mother's green tracksuit clinged to her frame.

See Komachi, you should follow our mother. Have some decency with your — and mines! — clothes.

"Hachiman?" Yes, mother, I'm Hachiman. **[7]** "What are you doing up so early?" Is it really that surprising for me to be awake at this hour? "Nevermind that, did you cook this?"

My mother appeared beside me before I could blink. I took a step back. Mother stared at the boiling pot of curry, as if it was the most precious thing in the world, her short dark hair falling around her neck. Her glasses glinted at me curiously.

"I did, mother." Hiki-mom smiled. I suddenly felt warm, my heart pounding to break free from my chest. I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly, while looking everywhere but at my mother.

I'm not a mom-con.

Her eyes lit up as she heard this. Even the family ahoge bounced up as if it was alive.

"... I love you, son…" Mom! You're embarrassing me.

"Mom! Don't say such embarrassing things!" I blushed.

I felt my head being pulled down. No! Don't! Despite my attempt at protesting, my mother went for the noogie. "A mother can't tell her son she loves him, huh?!"

Not the ahoge!

"I didn't say that!" Komachi is watching! How could you do this to her?! "I said that you're embarrassing me!"

My mother pushed me away. She put a hand on her head as she leant backwards. "Woe is me! My son doesn't love his mother anymore! Oh, woe is me!"

Mooooom! Stop acting out a screenplay!

I turned around, not wanting to watch such shameful display from my own parent. That proved to be a mistake, as my eyes caught Komachi's own, and there started my anxiety. Luckily, imouto-chan averted her eyes.

No. I should stop this.

…

Silence, my one true friend, came visiting us once more. It wasn't welcome.

"Ehem."

An irritated cough came from my side. I turned to see my mother snapping her fingers.

"This has gone long enough you two," she said, glaring at both of us. I felt a certain dread creep up behind my back, like a thousand spiders trying to climb Mount Hachiman. Damn, she scary. "You've been stepping on each other's toes for several weeks now, I may not be around much, but even I can see something's wrong."

Mom- _ster_ walked right up me. "And I assume you had something to do with it?"

Why does the blame automatically fall to me?

"It always has something to do with you, so don't bother making up excuses."

Do you have ESP?!

"No, you're just mumbling under your breath."

...Right. It was me. I can't lie about this one, because I had no regrets of doing it.

"Don't worry about it mom, we'll... sort it out ourselves…" I replied, trying to sound stronger than I was. Of course, my voice betrayed me and I silently mumbled out the last part. I glanced at Komachi, who was grinning.

"And how long will you keep doing that?" A finger entered my line of sight. A pull of sorts happened to my eyes, I was strung along by its movements. It was now pointing at Komachi whose grin froze in place. "I'm also talking to you, you know. Don't feel so smug."

Ah, here comes the impartiality of the matriarchy. Go, Mom!

"This has to stop." She crossed her arms and glared at the two of us.

There. She said it.

No one said a word. How could we? There wasn't anything to say. Defending yourself would just mean losing any credibility you had in the argument, and while I personally couldn't care less about who was in the right, I also wanted it to stop. I miss my sister.

I felt courage well up inside me, like fireworks exploding within my stomach, as I stared the ground in front of my sister.

"K-komachi—" I started, cringing, as my voice stuttered out her name, hopeful, as I had the courage to say her name in the first place. "I—" a hard thud followed my voice— "I'm so—oof," my body was held by her right now.

"You don't have to say anything, onii-chan," she said. Letting go of me, she turned and left, taking a piece of bread from the counter. The door slammed shut, and I was left alone with mother.

A sigh broke the stupor I had with what happened. Walking slowly, seemingly at a lost, Hachi-mom sat at the table. It wasn't so much as sat as crashed down on the chair and slumped, and she exhaled once more.

I wanted to say something. Something to placate my mother, something that'll ease the tension brewing up in her mind at seeing her two children squabbling. But as it turns out, it seems that only in my reality I wasn't a coward; and I'm likely not going to develop a reality marble to remedy that soon. **[8]**

We ate our breakfast in silence.

…

Walking to school was like walking on death row, only that you do it nearly everyday for a whole year. It could also be like going to a play or act and the director says that you had to improvise. Imagine the sheer anxiety of death row inmates and then think of walking it over and over again, or think about putting up an act where you had to improvise the every step of the way. That's what it was like.

One could say that with enough experience, the hard part gets easier, or the anxiety of being on stage abates. That's false. It only helps you do your part while you still carry that dread of being there — whether on stage or on death row.

That said, I was on neither, so I didn't have to worry about anything. I didn't have any sins that would put me on death row, and I don't put up an act, unlike the world of playwrights and actors around me.

I pity the fools who had to walk to school. But unlike them, I didn't walk to school.

I biked to school.

A strong wind blew. A shiver crawled up my spine as I cycled through the needle-like gales, my hands shivering and dead, my eyes half-shut to block out any dust or leaves carried. Damn trees, hold your leaves tighter will ya?

One thought echoed in my mind. Trees.

Speaking of trees and plays, in fact, you could even say I'm the tree in this gigantic play. As a tree, I don't have to do anything but stand and observe as the fools try and fail to act. I didn't have to put on a mask as a tree, for what could a tree do but be itself?

The role of the 'Loner' is the role of the 'Tree' in a play...sometimes they talk, but most of the time they're just there. Yet, consequently, they're the most free of all roles. They could make fools of themselves, and no one would notice…or care, rather, they'd just think of it as a weirdo's attempt at being humorous.

I take that back tree, you're a kindred spirit like me. Just don't be an asshole about it 'kay? Us trees have to stick together, hear?

Huh, why am I emphasizing with trees all of s sudden? Did I become a tree during a play in elementary school? Of course not, it was an acquaintance who told me what it was like, and I would never do anything stupid because I was bored.

A hazy memory appeared at the forefront of my mind.

 _The crowd sat in front of me. A light was shone on my form and I tried my hardest not to feel giddy. My eyes scanned the area and found my mother looking at me with a soft smile, while my sister waved at me energetically. I breathed in, ready to speak my lines. I shouldn't mess up._

 _It was my time to shine._

" _I'm a lonely tree in this cruel world," I spoke with reverence, "I can't move, I can't talk, I can't feel a thing. Can I really be called alive?"_

" _Oh, Mr. Tree," Kanako, the pretty brunette, whispered lovingly. I tried my hardest not to blush. "Can you feel love?"_

" _I love you."_

 _Around me, laughter filled the air, and Kanako, the ever-nice girl that she was, merely looked away. She smiled awkwardly. I turned my head to my mother, as she shook her head._

 _Was it something I said?_

 _A leaf from my head fell to the floor._

There was a vibration in my back pocket, knocking me out of my stupor. Huh, someone texted me this morning? Must be mom, she always texted every child of hers during our first days of school, perhaps to abolish our fears.

Don't fret, mother, this Hachiman has lowered his expectations to absolute nil! Thus, I can't be afraid of anything.

It did alert me of the car veering extremely close to me. I moved out of the way, not wanting to risk it further.

The minimum distance between car and bicycle lane is exactly one point five meters, and I was point eight meters away from it. We kept going at a parallel line, however, little by little it moved passed me even as I was riding at a relatively high speed for a bike. Which was fine. My parents probably didn't have the money to renew its paint-job if it'd gotten scratched because of me.

"Sable!" A feminine shriek, then a dog's whimpering bark broke any semblance of restraint I had. I spotted a brown hot-dog staring at death. No time.

Engaging 108 Hachiman Skill number 92: Cyclical Acceleration!

I sped up to speeds I didn't even know I could go. Briefly, I overtook the expensive car. Time slowed down to a grinding halt as I leant my bicycle down to pick up the dog. Safely tucked under my arms, I tried to speed away, but as luck would have it, I met the car head on.

…

Haze, that's the first thing I saw, followed by eyes carrying the endless blue sky within. A ringing sound echoed in my ears. I glanced at my side to see a peach-haired girl cradling mutilated dog. I was too late, huh.

I tried standing up.

My stomach burned. The world turned even hazier. The sky was tinted red and I couldn't feel my legs. Oh, god, the pain. I can't-

I gave up struggling.

Exhaling, I let darkness overtake me. My eyes flickered back upwards.

Last thing I saw was a girl's thin lips moving. I lost the ability to hear, so I didn't understand what she was saying. However, I have the ability to lip-read, as part of my 108 Loner Skills, as I never had a friend to talk to. I'd often look at my classmates talk, trying to figure out what they're saying through the movements of their lips. That way, I could feel like I was part of the conversation.

I can say that I'm confident in my ability to accurately deduce whatever words people say even if I didn't hear it.

'... _I found you.'_

Even if I didn't understand it.

...

Komachi never did eat my dinner that day. I hope that she eat my dinner some other day then.

Best hope I don't die before that happens.

...


	4. 1-3

**This is part two and the start of the Ghost Baby side story.**

 **Yukinoshita Yukino Knows My Middle School Delusions, Somehow 1-3**

…

"Onii-chan!" the sound of my sister's angel-like voice wailed upon the room full of wounded men, waking them, and me, up. White walls and green curtains. Hope and sterility, a hospital's adage.

An old man woke up startled. He looked at the sky next to him and started praying. Shit, maybe my sister's voice is too angelic.

Airhead, read the mood!

You're going to make everyone think they're going to die, Komachi, pipe it down will ya?

"Onii-chan…" she sobbed, clutching the loose blanket.

Oi, what's with that sad face. You're already cute enough, any more and I'd probably ask you to marry me right away (lol).

"..." I stared at her, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say. Consoling her would only make her worse, I noticed from several years of experience in raising little sisters. I simply had to let her do her thing, whatever it was. In all my years, I couldn't even begin to understand what goes on her mind. And that's 14 years.

I should write that in my resume.

14 years of experience! I'm an expert. If there's one job that I'd forgo for house-husbandry, it'd be the honorable job of onii-chanry.

"Idiot, dimwit, stupid, dunderhead…" she said as she pounded my chest. Don't pound on my chest, I just got back from an accident baka-imouto! And stop saying those hurtful words, my body hurts enough already, I don't need you psychologically damaging me too! "...idiot!"

"You've said idiot twice, I fear we may need to buy you a dictionary if this is the most insults you can come up with." I quipped. She looked up, startled. She wore her chin up and her eyes down, a frown tarnished her face.

"I didn't want to hurt you more than you already are in, gomii-chan." Her words betrayed her tone and the emotions dancing on her face. She was freely crying now. You're in middle school now, baka, don't cry!

I sat there, my head on a mound of pillows, confused. She mumbled under her breath, and I strained my ears just to hear her.

"...I keep telling you this...you know…"

"Tell me what?"

"Komachi doesn't want you to be a hero, onii-chan… I just want you to be my onii-chan," she said, burying her face on my chest. If punching me was not enough, you decided to headbutt me instead? Thou hath no mercy Komachi.

I pondered over her words. I was already her onii-chan, wasn't I? And I'm no hero.

No one is a hero, Komachi. Being a hero was too much effort than what anyone could put in. The problem with heroes is that all the heroes you see or hear everywhere did it not because of some pure wish of saving someone or something, but because somewhere in their minds, they wanted to feel the satisfaction.

"I never once been a hero, little sister. I did it because I wanted to."

It was true. I was no hero. Heroes are supposed to be the embodiment of something pure, namely the concept 'saving', but more often than not they're mired in the imperfectability of humanity — who wanted something pure, but can't imagine what pure was.

One hero from one place could be the villain in the other. It's the human perception of things that warp whatever it sees. No matter how righteous one's deed was, in the end, only the people around them decide that.

Even the great Shirou Emiya, Ally of Justice, was ultimately selfish in the end. **[9]**

I merely did it for self-satisfaction.

"...baka-nii… even after you saved that dog… you still refused to see yourself as a hero… huh…

"But that's okay…" she lifted her head from my chest, and I saw the tear stains on my hospital gown. I looked at her face, scrunched up in an odd mix between hurting and happy. She smiled at me, a waterfall cascading down her cheeks. "...because you're my hero!"

My heart skipped a beat. What's this? Why do I feel like I'm about to die from a heart attack? The car must've damaged more than my legs. Damn, my cheeks feel hot, maybe I was coming down with a fever? This day just kept getting better and better. At the rate I catch all these diseases, I might have to stay in this hospital room with strangers forever! Komachi, why hath thou forsaken me?

Wait, on second thought, staying in hospital leave longer means the time that I don't have to go to school becomes longer. Thank you, lil sis!

I smiled, and for the first time, I let it reach my eyes which softened from its constant glare. It wasn't my "I-know-what's-going-on-and-what-to-do-so-fuck-you" smile, but a genuine one that I've only ever shown my family.

And right now, call it intuition or a feeling deep inside my gut, Komachi and I became closer than ever as a family.

I can't help but feel worried.

…

"So, onii-chan," Komachi started. Her small frame laid beside me using my arm as a pillow. Having nothing to do, and being too tired to talk, we were watching the only television in the room shared by six people. Seeing that most of them were grown men, the channel on the TV was perpetually the News. Old men needed something to talk about after all.

Why they couldn't just _not_ talk, I have no idea. They're probably used to talking like the riajuus that they were. Pfft, so what if you lived to the ripe age of 60? Have you tried _living_?

Damn corporate slaves. Give me the remote! Precure is airing!

Big grey eyes entered my field of vision. Komachi looked crossed. Oh, right, replying to her.

"What is it, Komachi?" I asked. She slumped up on my chest, sighing.

"This is boring!" She all but shouted. I looked around my room and saw the aforementioned old men glancing our way. Idiot, you're making a scene!

"Pipe it down will ya," I admonished. In response, she buried her head on my chest and whined, her voice muffled by my hospital clothes. Her eyes peeked up.

I raised an eyebrow. She mumbled something under her breath.

"What?" I asked.

She just wrapped her arms around me. Then, she said, "You're going to be my sleeping buddy from now on."

"Don't you have teddy-bears for that?"

"Aren't you the one calling yourself a bear while making weird arguments on why bears are the greatest animal in the world?"

"Point. Still, you're too close." When I said this, her eyes started tearing up. What are you doing? Staph! I didn't do anything wrong this time, didn't I? Did I say something wrong then? No, what I said was always in the bounds of our normal conversations, and I haven't insulted her in anyway at all. What's wrong, then?

"Waaah," Komachi wailed. "Onii-chan doesn't want Komachi any more. After all we've been through! Komachi missed you so much! Do you know how hard Komachi took it when you got into that accident? Komachi thought you were going to leave Komachi forever!"

So that's it.

I pat her head. "I'm not leaving you, Komachi. Heaven's angels don't compare to you at all. There's no incentive for me to leave at all."

"That's scary, onii-chan. You're saying that as if you'd die when I die." She stood stiff straight, staring at me with wide eyes, when I said that. I had to dispel whatever thoughts she had running on her head right now. It wouldn't be too good if she thought her onii-chan as _that_ way after all.

Time to change the subject!

"If I had anything to do with it, I'd find a way to make us both immortal." I replied a bit too quick. It just made me sound desperate, I think. Well, I have to live with that knowledge then.

"Eh — Ewww! — why only make us immortal? Shouldn't you make everyone immortal too?" she asked. Fortune shines upon the brave, for it seems that she hadn't caught my thinly-veiled attempt at changing subjects.

"Ah, no, it'd be morally wrong actually," I said.

"Huh? Wouldn't living forever be good for society? Wouldn't it be morally right then? My mouth is jammed, don't take me seriously!"

Again with her catchphrase. It's like she doesn't want to be taken seriously despite having such serious questions.

"In that sense, you'd be absolutely right. However, if you were to distribute immortality, who would you give it to?" I asked her, mustering up my serious face. At least, that's what I thought was a serious face. I have no clue whether it had any effect at all with my conversation partners, as I have a shortage of conversation partners.

"Do you give it to everyone, regardless of their background? Would you give it to corrupted souls that shouldn't have immortality in the first place, the insane and disturbed? What about violent criminals, would you give it to them, so that the next time they commit a crime they would be able to carry out their sentences? Giving it to everyone would just absolve you of the guilt of selfishness, not the guilt that will come after."

"Komachi would have background checks for everyone who gets it of course."

Ah, of course. Background checks.

My little sister is so smart, nice to see that the Hikigaya genes run ever so strongly within you, lil' sis.

"Background checks are a good idea. However, picture this, how would you background check babies? It would eradicate infant mortality after all. But how would you know if they're going to grow up to be good people? And what about those who passed your background checks before but now is living the life of a criminal? Moreover, do you want to deprive the others of immortality? It brings me to my next point."

I waved a finger, as if pointing towards something only we could see. Well, I could see it, don't know if she could.

"Do you give it to a select few you trust? Selfishly hoarding your immortality and staying young forever while everyone else withers away and die? That will just give you guilt and make it morally wrong in the first place, if you think that not distributing it is morally wrong." I finished.

"But that's just flipping the argument, onii-chan." she countered.

"In a sense, yes. Which is why the accepted morality of society is only useful for keeping society whole. Not individuals. Individuals are variables in and of themselves, and like variables, they are one and infinite the same time. You could learn everything about a person, understand everything they did, and read their minds..."

I took a big gulp of air. She had a challenging smile plastered on her face. Did my breathing in just lose me points? Talking for long periods of time isn't my strong point, Komachi. I haven't had the chance to practice at all, give me a break, Komachi!

"…but you will never understand why they do what they do in the present. It takes a lifetime to understand the motivations of people, and even then, it's often muddled by your own — and other people's — perspectives."

She closed her eyes. Momentarily, I entertained the idea of gears chugging inside her mind as she mulled over my words. I saw her nodding to herself, and I imagined her thinking over all the points I made so far against the argument. Finally, Komachi opened her eyes and turned to me, our faces just a few centimeters apart.

Too close!

"Well, Komachi thinks it's bad to keep something as good as that away from everyone. Lots of people don't have time to do anything, so giving them a lot of time would help out a lot!" she concluded, affirming her beliefs.

Well, it's not like I did this to change anyone's beliefs at all. Someone like me with negative charisma wouldn't be able to sway anyone.

"I think it's rather stupid to let people be what they want and more. They'd get bored and do another thing, and then they get bored of that too. It'll be a never ending downward spiral. With the person trying to do things they'd normally not do in the first place because of the time they have."

"You're _you,_ onii-chan. Only you would think pessimistically with something as great as this."

"It's not me thinking pessimistically. It's me thinking realistically. Which is why I develop my own set of morals and only accept societal morality when it coincides with my own." I finished.

"That makes us different," she stated, as if that statement was an axiom that slickened the World Program. She paused, closing her eyes once more. Once more I was reminded of how close we were to each other, too close in fact. She was practically glued on to me!

I saw her open her eyes once more. "—but I wonder who is right?"

"I am of course. My logic is superior." I replied swiftly. Hah! I'll win this round Komachi! You're mine now!

No, not in that regard.

Pervs.

She turned to look at the white ceiling. "My mouth is jammed…" she said her catchphrase again. "By the way, what would onii-chan do if Komachi refused the immortality?"

"I'd gladly die with you of course. Death with you is better than life without you, that is a fact." I stated with no hesitation. There was no need to think that over anyway.

"Sis-con."

I regretted it immediately. Damn it! She won this round. I merely led the conversation, she led my strings, making me dance to her whims!

"My love for you is pure!" I replied tersely. Time to salvage what I can from the wreckage that is my pride.

"Komachi doesn't know…" she said smugly. She turned to me with wide eyes and a blush on her face. "…but if it's with you, Komachi would live her life forever. Kyaa! That must've earned me a lot of points."

That…

That was too cute. Komachi, you're too cute for this world. Too pure. I'm sorry for everything I've done. I tried to besmirch your pureness. Please forgive this lowly onii-chan!

"Points?"

"Onii-chan said Komachi and onii-chan would get bored as immortals right? So why don't Komachi and onii-chan play a game until eternity passes? That way, boredom is obliterated!"

"How much points was that?" This point system was getting me suspicious.

"You're the one who's going to give Komachi the points. Be fair though. Because Komachi knows that Komachi will win either way but wants onii-chan to think he gets a fighting chance."

"Why you little—"

"Komachi doesn't know!" There she goes again with her catchphrase. Frankly, speaking, it's ridiculous if anyone else said it. But she's Komachi, she could say anything and it'd still be cute as Alice in Wonderland.

Silence passed by us.

Fuck off silence! We aren't friends anymore.

"So how was your day?"

"It was great. Lots of friends do friendly things with me and I do friendly things with my friends, it's like our own little world where no one could enter. At least no one disgusting."

Each time she said the word friend, my already shattered heart broke a little more. Komachi, please don't break my heart when I was suffering from heartbreak already! It's just too cruel!

I changed the subject back to the points thing.

"If you get points for saying something cheesy, how many points did I get then?"

She looked at me with a gleam in her eyes. "Infinity. You basically declared your wish to be with Komachi forever right?"

Doesn't that make me win?

"...but that was before Komachi made the point system! So no points for onii-chan."

She's a fox! Too cunning!

"And Komachi declared Komachi's desire to be with onii-chan forever too! That's worth infinity points! It's Komachi's win, no matter how many points you rack up!"

It was a lost game from the start?!

"...I still have to give you the points though, hmph. Who says what you said is worth infinite points to me?"

She suddenly carried a startled look on her face. Tears rimmed her eyes and she pouted, looking like a kicked kitten. "You're saying that Komachi's pure wish to be with her onii-chan forever isn't worth infinite points? How could you, onii-chan!"

"No, wait, wait, wait. I'm not saying that it isn't worth infinite points—"

"So it is?"

"Well, if you put it that way—"

"Then it is. Thank you onii-chan, for that you get a reward," she said, making that sly look on her face again.

"Oh? The loser of the game gets a reward?"

"Yes. Close your eyes." Blackness greeted me as I did what I was told. I awaited her reward eagerly, not knowing what it was, but only that it was from my dear imouto. Imouto-chan, any gift from you is a gift from the heavens themselves!

My body was held tight.

The world blurred into existence in all it's white, sterile glory as I opened my eyes. I glanced next to me, where Komachi was laying, and saw her hugging my side tightly.

I never felt so surprised in my entire life. When she was done, she smiled a pretty smile, and I was left wondering how hot my cheeks are now. It was warm. I felt like boiling inside.

A stiff silence, silence's cousin, came to us unwelcomed like his cousin. I tried making it go away, but I was too into a stupor to do anything. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, my sister made it go away by saying this.

"If only the two of us were immortal, and everyone we meet, know and love will wither away in the end, that would mean that the only thing that is precious in this world for both of us, is us," she said. I was left speechless by this. "You wouldn't leave me again, would you?

That is so cute! Don't worry! I won't be going away anyway, with my eyes and personality and all.

This time, my body burned. Was I having a fever or…?

I saw her grey eyes boring down mine, and I instinctively looked away.

Too cute.

Oh God, please get me away from this cuteness! I'm sorry for everything I did, thought of, and will do in the future. I won't sell my soul to the devil, I'll sell it to you for half-price. Just bring me out of here!

I can't handle it.

My little sister can't be this cute! **[10]**

"Ara~ my daughter is declaring her love for my son. How scandalous. What would the neighbors think?"

Thankfully, my mother came. Unfortunately, she came in guns blazin' with the entire United States Military Arsenal. And the Citizens' Arsenal too. **[11]**

I died.

…

In the end, Komachi bid me farewell, leaving with mother, and I was once again alone. Well, technically not alone, as several middle-aged and senior men shared this room with me in the first place. Which was why the television was currently on despite it being past midnight.

The television was loud enough for me to hear within the curtains. So I overheard whatever midnight programs these old coots were currently enjoying themselves with.

A cute female voice said:

" _Noharu-kun… we shouldn't. What would the neighbors think of us?"_

Hold on. This sounds familiar.

" _I don't care…Hibiki-chan…I love you despite anything else."_ A strangely effeminate voice answered back. Must be Noharu-kun, then. What a romantic. Unrealistic at all.

My suspicions are roused. What's with the sudden punch of familiarity hitting me in the head? I racked my mind for answers, but found none.

" _...but we're siblings!"_ The cute female voice cried in anguish.

No.

Nope.

I knew why this sounded familiar. It was porn.

Next time mom comes in, I'm going to ask for earplugs. I don't want to hear whatever debauchery these old, sexless tigers watch these days to relieve themselves of perpetual boredom until death.

" _Noharu-kun!"_

That's it.

I stood up from my bed. Grabbing my crutches and opening the curtains, I was greeted with the sight of two very attractive people kissing on the television. Disgust entered my mind as I realized that these people were siblings. Despicable.

The pure love of siblings shouldn't be depicted that way! Fools at the TV station, face my wrath!

I went out of that honestly stuffy room. The air conditioner was at full-blast but the air felt stale and dry, and a building headache was forming in my head.

Maybe a walk outside would clear my head.

As I walked, I couldn't help but notice how expansive this hospital was. It's one of those rich people hospitals where literally everything is accommodated — except actually good food. No matter which hospital I end up in, the food always tastes stale.

I noticed a door at the end of the hallway as I was nearing the elevator. It seemed to lead outside, as artificial lighting blurred through the transparent glass. Seeing that it was closer, and being an energy conservationist that I was, I took the obvious closest route outside.

When I got out, I noticed the air was still cold and dry, but it didn't feel stale. Rather, it was vibrant and bodacious, like a parade of dancers performing, and my nausea at being inside the hospital disappeared with the air.

I breathe in. Taking more of that sweet, fresh air inside of me. I never appreciated it more now. It beat the smell of analgesics and dying any day.

Settling down on one of the benches, with the vaguely Victorian street light behind me glimmering softly, I watched as the cool, spring breeze blew on the grass. My crutches were on my side, so I could easily escape if threatened. But really, there was nothing threatening about this scene at all.

White butterflies fluttered in the wind.

I had never felt so relaxed in my entire life. If there was one thing that this hospital beat every other hospital with, it's the garden that was built in.

I closed my eyes. The sound of water fluttering down, drip-dropping into the basin of water on the fountain, the whispers of the spring wind telling me its secrets, the rustling of the leaves… it was amazing.

It led my mind away from disturbing thoughts. Like me being in a hospital.

It made me think of something else.

Like Komachi's smile.

Something good.

Like Komachi's laugh.

I'm not a sis-con! My love for my sister is pure! Pure, I tell you! Don't you dare say it. I know you're thinking about it. Komachi's declaration of marriage and kiss on the cheek was just her showing of appreciation for my duties as a wonderful older brother!

I felt my face soften. No use in keeping that constant glare on when no one could see you.

This time, I'll be abstemious.

"Onii-chan, onii-chan!" a voice like wind-chimes danced around my ears. "Neh, neh, when did you die?"

What.

I opened my eyes, to find green ones staring right back at me. I instinctively moved my face away.

A small girl stood before me, her arms behind her back as she leaned in with a pout. Her blond, probably dyed, hair tangoed with the breeze. She wore a one-piece sundress — in this cold? — and had a white flower on her ear.

And most importantly, she looked like a sixth grader.

"Mou~ onii-chan, don't ignore me! My name is Mizuko. Mizuko Yuuna! What's yours?" Mizuko? What a strange name. And what a strange girl for even greeting a stranger alone in the middle of the night. You're lucky that I wasn't a weirdo. What if I was a lolicon, huh? I could've kidnapped you, y'know, and do weird things to you. What are you gonna do, then?

Not that I was a lolicon. Komachi is the one for me. I'm a Komachi-con. Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna go there. I shook my head frantically, trying to dispel any notions of self-doubt in my head.

"Hikigaya…Hachiman." I let out finally with a gruff. I paused in the middle for effect, while intentionally deepening my voice. It'd scare the poor kid away, fo' sho!

"Hikigaya-onii-chan, is it? Mou~ your name is too long," she clutched her head, as if the mere utterance of my name could make one lose their mental faculties. I could be a good Old God, heh. Take that Cthulhu! I can make people insane when they even so think about me!

Wait, that wasn't a good thing, right? Was this the reason why no one wanted to be friends with me? Hmph, I wouldn't want to be friends with insane people anyway.

No matter what Komachi tells you, I'm not a hinedere, got that?

"Can I just call you Hikki-nii?" The child spoke up suddenly. What was that request? Did she want to insult me at the same time when she calls me?

The gleam in her eyes blazed. I had to squash that flame before it gets me on fire.

"No." That seemed to deflate her. But she puffed up her chest, no matter how non-existent it was, bravely then after.

"Oh How about this one, yeah! Nah, Hachi-nii?" **[12]** 18782? Are you punning me right now? Jokes on you, I've been called worse things. And you're blatant mispronouncing of the puns is murdering our great language!

"No. That name is off-limits." I still have my dignity too!

She stared at her feet, which was bouncing and skipping, as if the constant wobbling would wobble an idea in her brain out. Finally, she looked at me with glistening eyes and a small pout.

Too cute!

"Onii-chan?"

HNNNNG! I feel a thumping in my chest, as if my heart was about to break through. I seriously hope I don't get arrhythmia out of all these blatant attacks. **[13]**

"No. Only my sister can call me onii-chan, " I told her seriously, my voice grave as the trenches of world war one. It seemed to startle her, as if she wasn't expecting that. Though she crossed her eyebrows, fuming, and clenching her fist.

Hah, you won't have anything to call me soon. Best be going to somewhere else — like your parents, who must be missing you dearly and wouldn't want you to be all alone with a shifty guy.

Did I just insult myself?

"Onii-tan?" The little elementary school girl squeaked out. Why do you do this to me, gods? Why do I have to be part of this seemingly lolicon romantic comedy scene!

I'm not a lolicon! I love onee-chans with big bouncy boobs I can rest my head on! Not that I'd tell anyone that, my fetishes are kept tightly secured within my own mind.

"Please stop," I sighed. It seemed like it emboldened her though, did I make a mistake? "Yuuna, was it?" I didn't want to call her something as weird as Mizuko, I pity her parents who gave her that last name. "Go back to your parents or something."

"Mou~ onii-tan is mean. You're a mean ghost!"

Did you just call me a malignant spirit? That's cruel, apologize to my wounded soul!

"Please. I'm not a ghost." I decided to take her words literally and not metaphorically, spiritually, or conceptually. Going down that route will only hurt logical minds.

"How can you see me then?" Because I have eyes?

"Are you an onmyoji?" Do I look like I'm carrying around me strips of paper and spiritual rice? No. Not anymore at least. My chuuni-days are over.

"Wah, onii-tan is an onmyoji!" Your logical conclusion is highly illogical, elementary schooler-chan. I'll break those illusions of yours! **[14]**. And don't call me onii-tan.

"If I was, I'd set up a barrier right now to ward off any person from my relaxation spot on the threat of _defenestration_. Be grateful that I'm not."

Be very grateful that I used a word you probably don't understand. Otherwise, you'd run away to your mom and I'd be forced into solitary confinement with Big Bubba as my roomie.

Wait, that's the other way around!

"There are no windows here, onii-tan." How did she understand the word defenestration? That's a word only historical geeks and memelords know about. And I used the English word for hell's sake.

Also please don't send me to a cell with Big Bubba!

"That's just how strong I am as an onmyoji — which I'm not," I said. She twirled her hair, before finally sitting next to me. Got tired, eh? Your parents must be worried. It's probably your bedtime.

"True," she agreed, "Onii-tan feels more like a ghost than an onmyoji. I can sense your spirit energy after all."

Spirit what? Please, did this kid catch an early form of chuunibyou? What is elementary school chuunibyou called anyway? For that matter.

Time to nip this delusion off the bud.

"What's this nonsense about spirit energy? Are you sure you're not the onmyoji here?" I joked. I can't kill off a child's fantasies damn it, my onii-chan instincts won't allow it.

She wore a disgusted look on her face.

"Noes, gross. I wouldn't touch an onmyoji even if I had a ten-foot pole. Much less be one."

Is this some sort of hidden trauma?

Her face flickered angrily at me. Did I do anything? I'm sorry for pressing on this button I had no idea existed but please keep in mind that you were the one who brought this topic.

I better steer clear of this conversation.

"You're pretty verbose for a kid, you know that?" I noted out loud. And her verbiage is spectacular, too, and with that amount of word know-how she's got right now, how'd you imagine the vituperation she could unleash ten years in the future!

She'd be a monster of vitriol!

"Bellicose? What's that?"

How do you get bellicose from verbose? I didn't even say it in English. Is this meta-punning?

Is that even a thing?

"It's verbose. It means that you love to talk. Bellicose means aggressive," I explained. Seriously, this is a smart kid.

"That's belligerent." Wha—

How did she know that?

"It's a synonym."

"Sorry, I forgot."

You quite clearly did not.

"It's quite clear that you know all these words. Don't try to pretend that you failed to remember words that you quite clearly know how to use."

"Sorry, I for god."

What.

"Religions have nothing to do with this!"

Don't go shouting Deus Vult on me now!

"And verbosity doesn't equal aggressiveness, despite what many believe. What it does equal is stupidity, as why would you need four words when one is enough?"

"Isn't stupidity directly proportionate to aggressiveness?"

I have no words. I've shamed myself for losing to a kid.

Fortunately, she merely kept her smile as she sat beside me on this cold spring night. The sky was so dark that you'd be hard-pressed to even see clouds passing by the moon. It was a night that was forgettable to anyone, but somehow, I doubt that I'd be forgetting this night.

If anything, whenever I hear a pun, I'd remember this scene, of a flickering lamplight against an encroaching darkness.

Puns are memorable.

"Neh, neh, what do you think makes up the sky?"

"Water vapor, greenhouse gasses, and oxygen and nitrogen," I answered her in my calm, cool and collected onii-chan voice. It seemed to work as her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her pupils dilating becoming as small as, well, pupils. This is the power of age, kiddo, remember this!

And my answer too!

—Even with my poor skill in science, basic things like this are not so far out of reach!

Her green eyes narrowed. It was like staring into a reporter's camera when walking on the road to prison, as brief flashes of light from the transient light source behind me reflected off of her.

"Mou~ don't be so undramatic," she pouted, huffing away.

Keh! I'll show you undramatic.

"It's made of tears, anxiety and the coldness of death," my voice was so deep that I could feel a rumble in my stomach, "it reflects the axioms that define the world below, like a mirror for the wicked," I finished.

A sudden realization struck me, and I reeled from the revelation.

Oh god, that was so chuuni. That wasn't what I was going for at all! It just slipped out, please don't let this one thing define your thoughts of me from now on.

I'm still the cool, collected onii-chan trope.

Right?

I'm gonna vomit.

"That's melodramatic! It's a travestory! **[15]** "

Huh? Nisemonogatari? She knows that series?

"Hoh? You've read the Monogatari series? A bit too young for that, don't you think?"

"Excuse me for not having a wide variety of reading material. I lucked out when that onee-san forgot to take her box filled with all the volumes of the Monogatari series home."

That's a weird set of coincidences. Also, onee-san? I didn't know any girl that read and enjoyed that fetish bait I enjoyed. I'm a guy after all.

It's all the more weird considering that this elementary schooler kid had stars in her eyes as she began listing off her favorite parts of the series.

Huh.

That's where the stars went to.

I interrupted her.

"That is a lucky break…" I started, wanting to get on a right platform to launch, "...you sound like you live in this hospital."

"I do."

Startling.

"Oh, are you the chairman's daughter?" I asked the most obvious question. When I said this, she looked at the ground in front of her, swinging her legs, before finally replying.

"Nah, I just live here."

"That's strange. Don't people notice a kid is living in a hospital all by herself?" Hell, everyone would've noticed if a kid went missing in Japan. Our society was slowly being populated by old coots, so everyone was in alarm on what to do it repopulate the youth.

"There's a lot of things people don't notice — or at least — ignore when it inconveniences them."

Ain't that the truth. Still, it seems that there's more to the story than that. But I won't pry — there's not much a barely first-year high school boy could do other than alert the authorities. Judging from her distant expression though, I got the feeling that even that wouldn't work.

"That's...distresstory." _Nisemonogatari reference._ I despise myself so much right now.

"Wow, onii-chan. Your portmanteau game is on point. You could write a light novel series with that."

As if. Self-inserts are so 2012. Besides, I've written what could pass off as a light novel series now. So I could be considered as a light novel author anyway.

Not that I'd publish that. Despite the extra money I'd get. It's probably in a dumpster somewhere now.

"I'd be more of a hikki, then. Since I'd just write to earn money, I won't want to leave my room." **[16]** Still, I had to reply wittingly. Otherwise, people would think I've lost my edge. I'd never lost my edge because I'm the edgiest teen you can find. I mean edge by living on the fringes of society, thus being a loner. And being a loner is equivalent to being edgy.

"With a name like yours, it looks like destiny."

NO! Hikikomori is not, nor never will be, put on my character sheet. No one, is allowed to do that, no one but me.

Not even when it's an apt description.

Not even then.

"The concept of free-will fundamentally conflicts with the concept of destiny. I, as a free individual, abhor the usage of such terms to describe me."

"You sound like a sophist. I think it's more of a sophistory than a travestory."

I understood that reference. Also, no, it's not sophistry when the logic is sound, learn your words please and come back. I'm a pioneering philosopher.

"No one would understand your references." I quipped.

She stared away at yonder. Looking for the stars that weren't there. Seeing that she wasn't going to be replying for a moment, I restarted my zen before I was interrupted. I leaned back, enjoying the soft breeze on my skin and the rough tactile of the wooden bench under my hand — sensory overload is one way to achieve a meditative state.

I read that in an article online.

She spoke up suddenly.

"True. Say, what did you want to be when you grow up?" Are we talking futures now? Well, I have one answer to that. It's basically ammo made of my self-esteem. But sorry, something made of something rotten is rotten in the result.

So it's fine! No damage would be taken. Friendly fire was turned off.

"Well, I'm currently preparing for my future to be a house-husband. I'll marry rich and never have to work again." I waited for the incoming jab at my unrealistic, unviable, and unenviable dream.

All I got was this.

"That seems like a great dream," and then she smiled at me. A big toothy smile that sparkled with the flickering lamplight.

It was what other people would give me if they weren't already scorning me in the first place. A venomous smile, hidden other a veil of politeness.

At least, that's what I would've thought.

But it wasn't a smile of ridicule I was used to receiving every time I told someone of my aspirations.

It was a smile of pity.

A tingle crawled up my stomach like an electric shock. I sat there in silence, pondering on her words and actions.

Nani? The first person I told my dream to that didn't ridicule me? What are the odds? Granted, she is an elementary schooler, but still, even they would realize the folly that was my dream.

I acknowledged that I would never hope to achieve it in my lifetime, that I was far more likely to be a corporate slave like my parents, but that didn't mean that I was going to give up.

Naruto's nindo is to never go back on his word, my life-do is to never give up on anything that will lead to me having a comfortable life!

And that smile…it's like she was telling a child that they couldn't have cake for their birthday since they didn't have enough money to buy for it. It's a smile of loss hope and dreams. Something that shouldn't be given to anyone except to people who had wrecked their lives. Even then, when there's a life, there's hope.

To see that in a child is mildly concerning. I now contemplated her home-life. She did say she lived in this hospital. Was she abandoned here by her parents and the staff took pity on her? That was as far as a dog could even fetch. It sounded like a story of altruism and generosity of human-nature, the ability of people to be blinded by love to rid of their responsibilities, and the emotions clouding their reasonable judgments.

Something that I knew never happened in real life.

In short, Mizuko Yuuna was a mystery.

Argh, elementary school children were supposed to be easier to read!

"It is," I said, not having anything else to say. She looked away, forlorn, staring at the ground beneath her. The elementary schooler inhaled sharply.

"I want to be a doctor, you know. A pediatrician," she cupped her hands on thin air, as if holding something small and round. She must be imagining holding a stethoscope or some other instrument doctors use. Still, a pediatrician huh.

Briefly, I imagined her in a lab coat, gloves and a disk strapped on her head.

"I don't think anyone would accept you, even though you're a kid, doc." Look mommy, I made a funny. She seemed to appreciate it as her eyes lit up once more, a grin occupying her face.

She giggled, dispelling the haunting atmosphere from before. "You pun so hard, onii-tan," she said between snorts and coughs. Uh, you're the only one outside of my family to experience the wonders of Hikigaya Sanctioned Puns. We Hikigayas are a withdrawn bunch you know. We don't just give anyone the privilege to hear our witticisms.

Even Komachi, who I know is a social butterfly of the highest order, is taciturn when she doesn't want anything to be known.

Somehow, you managed to gain my trust. It's concerning. I feel like you wouldn't tell a soul, but feelings are easily disapproved by evidence. Still, my mind likens you to myself, which is strange and alien to me, like seeing your doppelganger for the very first time.

"Thanks, I try," I blurted out, seeing her look at me with a confused face. In the end, I didn't get an answer at all for this strange feeling. Companionship is something that isn't given to me most of the time, but even I knew how it felt like — camaraderie.

What I felt with this strange grade-schooler is something else, but I can't explain what.

"Anyways, I want to be a doctor since I see a lot of things around the hospital," she said, as if a kid living in a hospital was the most natural thing. It's not, for those who are stupid enough to ask. "Doctors are a noble profession; they save people from death, and each day is a battle against nature. It seemed so cool at the time."

"At the time?" What time? You still have a lot more time ahead of you, kid. You're not like me, who's already going towards 1/5th of his expected life expectancy.

"I realized that I could never be a doctor, you know? Because of circumstances." What circumstances? You might as well be riddling me while speaking in a foreign tongue — in Japanese, that means get to the point already.

I'm getting frustrated with the lack of progress and the misdirection you're doing. Either tell me what you want to say or don't. I'm still reeling from the multiple realizations I had while talking to you.

"You admitted that you lived in this hospital, "I spoke, calmly addressing the elephant in the room. "Pray tell, what exactly forbids you from becoming a doctor even though you probably stayed here more than any doctors working in this hospital?"

"Mou~ don't make me say it." There, finally. Time to hit the nail in the coffin.

"Fine, if you don't want to say it, I won't pry," I said to diffuse the situation. I can't be direct with my thoughts huh? The indoctrination worked. I looked away, ashamed at myself.

A finger poked at my cheek. I turned to see Yuuna giving me a sad smile. Eyes droopy and cheeks straining, it was a sorry sight. Those smiles are supposed to be given to loved ones, not to strangers.

Smiles are your weapons, fool.

"No, it's alright. You see, onii-tan, I'm a ghost, like you," she said.

I couldn't believe it.

"Haha, is this a joke? Are you building it up like the onmyoji thing again?" This is a joke made by a grade schooler who doesn't have anything better to do, I know. Somewhere her parents are gonna jump out screaming, "Social Experiment", and I'm going to be viral on youtube for discussing philosophy with a kid.

I waited.

"No, for reals this time." I waited some more. This kid is really pushing it. Still, I'm not going to be tricked by the guys who just want that youtube money.

"It's true," she said. And I sighed. Her face betrayed nothing. She was either a terrific actor or speaking honestly from the heart.

"Maybe I'm not the sophist here," I said. That's a wrong use of the word, but frankly, I could care less.

"You don't believe me, huh. That's okay, ghosts don't know that they're already dead."

I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed if I was dead.

"By knowing that you died, you will be set free from wandering the place you died in. Since you've been a good onii-tan, I'll show you that you died."

She tugged my sleeves, beckoning to go back inside the hospital.

"I keep telling you, I haven't died. I actually survived. Doctors said it was a miracle," I was actually lucky to be alive. It seemed that my time in this world isn't up yet!

"Keep telling yourself that, Hikki-onii-tan," sticking her tongue out, she teased. Bah, I'll tell myself anything to make myself feel better. It's human to do so, a skill honed by the realistically dangerous world our ancestors lived in so that they don't fall into depression. The will to live; I had that in spades.

What I don't have is patience for stupid nicknames that anyone but my family gives me, however.

"I'd appreciate it more if you don't call me a Hikki, no matter how easy it is to say. My name is Hikigaya Hachiman." That's right, stop insulting me indirectly. You might think it's cute, you might think that you could endear it to me — sorry to burst your bubble, but it isn't.

"Words should be easy and only have one meaning. That way we'd understand better." Hohoho, is that what I think it is? Political Correctness or Newspeakean Mandate? That kid is treading dangerous ground.

"That's terribly Orwellian of you to suggest that." If this kid knew who Orwell was — she's now the smartest kid I'll know, second to Komachi whenever she doesn't do that cute catchphrase.

A Komachi appeared in front of me, fist on the head, tongue sticking out and saying, "My mouth is jammed!"

"Is it? Misunderstandings are caused by the tiniest mistake in meaning. Shouldn't language be made more efficient in conveying meaning?"

"I agree with you on that part. But the beauty of language its it's imperfect ability to convey meaning yet still manages to convey meaning."

"That doesn't make sense." When she said that, I smirked. Time to show that my third place in Japanese in the placement exams weren't just for show.

"Take reading a book for example. What to you is the meaning of the entire thing was to another person entirely different. And the author probably has a different meaning of the thing, too. Yet it still manages to touch you in spite of its meaning."

"I wouldn't have guessed that you were this sentimental, from your appearance." Oi, I can be perfectly romantic. In fact, the only reason why people don't notice this about me is because no one talks to me. Not like I care though, people can go die combusting alone with their superficiality for all I care.

I couldn't help but puff my chest out in pride.

"Third-ranked in Japanese during the placement tests, I didn't get that without having the love for it. And you missed the most important part of language."

She looked at me curiously.

"What?" I grinned.

"Puns."

"Pfft." She tried to stifle her laughter. It was futile though, she was gamboling and guffawing after a few moments. Finally, she calmed herself down, to say this: "Your jokes are the best, onii-tan."

Once more, I smiled a non-straining smile. My face relaxed and I felt that I've reached the zen I was looking for when I came out to relax. Somehow this kid wormed herself into my heart, like Zouken to Sakura, and I felt what Sakura feels like every day. **[17]**

An ache in my heart, but I felt power.

Her words were empowering.

In the end, I didn't follow her to see my corpse.

…


	5. 1-4

**Yukinoshita Yukino Knows My Middle School Delusions, Somehow 1-4**

I woke up to the sound of glass being knocked on.

Naturally, the first thought that went through my head was a questioning one. It reeked subtly of incredulousness and exasperation. It was something that I, and anyone really, would naturally have when waking up.

What time was it?

After asking that question, one would look around to see if it was still dark. If it was, well…

Who the fuck woke me up? Which bitch do I need to shank today? I may be injured but you're dead if I caught you!

As I opened my eyes, I saw a humanoid silhouette transposed on the green curtains that surrounded me. The artificial lighting outside grew dimmer as the night grew deeper, and the only light strong enough to make a shadow that crisp would be lunar light.

A healthy and normal human being such as I, when seeing strangeness during the first wink of awakedness, did what normal and healthy human beings do.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the blight in my normalcy.

Disruptively, the knocking on the window grew louder, and I wasn't able to reach that state of complete and utter self that Buddhist monks talk about. I took a peek, to see if it wasn't just some gigantic woodpecker named Woody. Or Glassy, as its new gender identity seems to be. **[18]**

The shadow was still there.

Who the fuck cleans windows this late at night?

I stood up and turned around.

She was there. The girl with the blue eyes. Her already small form crouched in front of the window made her more diminutive. Her hand was raised to knock while her faced carried a serious look, as if she was meeting her probable boss in an interview. And she wore like so.

Her clothes clung to her body — a perfect fit — crafted with her, and only her in mind. Shorts for the heat, a long-sleeved turtleneck made of heliotropes, and a small pendant of a cat that hung on her neck. She wore what anyone would wear for spring—

—yet she somehow made it more beautiful.

She was beautiful, undeniably, so unblemished, unlike normal humans. She was like a doll, with how small and fragile she looked. She looked out of place in this world, like if a feather were in a raging storm; evanescent — you'd only be able to catch her glimpse once.

I caught her eyes. She was a predator, confident. I felt my being taken away, her blue eyes glowing with the artificial lighting below.

She looked like a statue of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of beauty, her skin glowing in the moonlight, touching the window ever-so-lightly.

No, she was something else.

More than what this world could offer.

Fair folk, a euphemism for a fairy, described her perfectly. More often than not, fairies were often described to be living in another world detached from this impure reality. Multitudes of cultures describe their world as an exaggeration of our own world, but cleaner and more vibrant, as all impurities were cleansed at their command.

When I looked at her I felt clean.

She was part of that world.

A world not of this one.

Utopian.

She felt transient.

None of this was real.

I was merely dreaming.

My sister would wake me up with her melodious voice.

And all this will be forgotten.

She raised her hand, pointing at the knob that open window. Even her actions were graceful. I found myself mesmerized as she tried to pantomime something to me, what it was, I cared less for than this walking angel.

She shook her head at me, pointing once more at the knob. I looked at her confused. She sighed and mimicked opening a door.

.

.

.

Oh.

She wanted me to open the window. I must've looked very stupid right now as I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat up as I did so. She jumped in like an assassin, landing gracefully on the floor next to the curtains.

Not wanting to get into any misunderstandings, looked away, pondering on why exactly did a girl appear on my window. It seemed like a romance anime development, but I knew those can't exist in real life. Assassination seemed even less likely, as I didn't do anything illegal that the government wanted to kill me.

Wait, who said it was the government? Maybe this femme fatale is part of the family whose car I crashed into while trying to save that dog. I have no clue really.

"Averting your gaze from the problem doesn't solve it, Hikigaya-kun."

How does she know my name? The femme fatale theory is gaining in strength now. Are you going to kill me for scratching your car?

I turned to face her.

"It only becomes a problem if you make it a problem."

"That's incorrect. A leak on your boat is a problem objectively speaking, you can't delude yourself into thinking that it isn't a problem."

"That's giving into the notion that everyone' would think the same given the situation. You can't generalize people."

"No, but you can assume that most people, if not mentally handicapped or undeveloped, would consider a boat leaking a problem. And from what I could surmise, you have a gaping hole to fill."

This bitch.

"And what is your great deduction on my problems, Detective-san?"

"That you are sorely lacking in any positive traits," she looked at me as if a was a vomit on the floor.

"I shouldn't have let you in."

"And this just proves to me that you are a despicable human being, Hikigaya-kun," she said, as she flipped her hair behind her, "How could you leave a cold and defenseless woman out there in the late winter air."

"It's early spring."

"Truly despicable. You'd manipulate information just to justify your own ends? Are you an aspiring fascist leader?"

Do I look like Benito Mussolini now?

"Fuck off then, you got in," I said, reaching the limit of my fuse, "don't you have anywhere else to go?"

"I'm actually here for you."

What?

I gaped at her. What would she want to do to me? Is the assassin theory true? I'm sorry, but I won't have any media presence to even make people sympathize with me to dent your conglomerate earning, Ms. Ride-in-a-Limousine to school. So don't kill me!

She sighed so suddenly it caught me of guard.

Honestly, with how perfect she was, you'd think the act of sighing would be beneath her, but this just goes to show that even the heavens get tired.

What they were tired of, I had no clue, and I'd rather not get involved with something that would make the heavens themselves shrug in exhaustion.

"Why are you like this?" she asked.

If I was caught off guard by her act of sighing, I'm practically a defenseless fort now.

I didn't understand what she meant by that.

And I have this gut feeling that trying to understand why a girl suddenly appeared on the window, insults me, and then looks like she's got the world on her shoulders all in a single moment is an endeavor as futile as climbing Mt. Everest without proper climbing gear.

I shrugged. "I don't know how to answer that question." Then I glared at her. "But mind answering mine?"

"Your glare sends shivers down my spine, as if my being was naked in front of your dead eyes. I fear for my chastity." She hugged herself as she said that, looking at me with suspicion.

Oi! That's supposed to be my look. You're pretty suspicious right now entering my room without warning in the middle of the night, through the windows no less!

"What are you doing here?" I ignored her barb and asked the question that had been bugging me since I woke up.

Once she was silent, the world stood silent. Not even when I rustled under my blanket did any sound emanate. Like the world was under her command, nothing could make a sound if she didn't permit it. It was illogical.

I knew that there was sound. Sound is an existence that no one could silence. Even in a low-decibel room, you'd still hear the beat of your heart, the sound of air funneling down your throat as you breathe, the rushing of blood in your veins and the ringing of your ears. Sound travels through a medium, remove that medium and you have no sound.

The only way to make sound disappear is if I were turned deaf for a moment.

Somehow, I thought that was the case.

My train of thought had so many passengers right now that derailing it would shock me into a coma.

Who is this woman?

Why did she come for me?

What is her motive?

Where did she come from?

How did she climb the building to get to my window?

All valid thoughts; all circling around my mind in a route that would take them absolutely nowhere unless this woman gives me information. Even with sparse knowledge of her, I'd be able to deduce what I can through logical thought and an educated hypothesis.

All I could do is nothing.

All I could do is wait.

"I came here to see a hero," she started.

When she spoke, the world moved once more. No, the world entered a state of hypersensitivity. The low-decibel room this hospital lacked before, one appeared in this room. I could hear my breath funneling down my esophagus. My blood rushing through my veins. My heart beating rapidly.

I didn't know what to say. For I had none. Who in their right minds would look for a hero here? There were no heroes, that's for certain. This world had no need for them.

Who even needs heroes?

They're just men and women at the right place at the right time.

Destiny is a fallacy — so are the arguments backing it up. The universe is too random, too coincidental for prophetic order, too destructive for such a concept to even exist. To believe in destiny is to ignore the one axiom in this reality.

The universe doesn't care.

She opened her mouth to speak.

"And I saw something pitiful instead," she finished. She turned away, looking at the curtains. Her skin was ivory in the moonlight, showing once more her doll-like features. The wind from the open window blew hard, and her hair waltzed with the curtains, while her body stood fixed, even with the chilly clothing she had on her.

I caught her gaze on me.

I smiled.

She flinched.

Caught you.

"You came here to see a hero, huh?" I could feel a laugh well inside me. How could I not? This girl was trying to find something that doesn't exist in this world. I didn't, however. I felt my face threatening to break under my grin.

I told her what I told Komachi earlier.

"Heroes don't exist in this world. You'd be more likely to find a unicorn instead," I said. I saw her lips twitch and she turned to me, but I cut off any chance for her to speak. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep. It's late and I just got run over a car so…"

With that, I laid down to my side, my back facing her, and raised a hand to gesture the universal sign of fuck off. Shoo~ shoo~

"Before I leave," I heard her say, "I just want you to know that won't be the end of me." Curtains rustling and an almost imperceptible voice said, "I will fix you."

How ominous (lol).

The only person who could fix me, is me. No one else can, and that's a fact. I'll take whatever torture you bring, whatever mental destruction you forbear, I'll weather it.

I'd fight you.

You can't change me, missy, and that's a fact.

As I slipped further and further into a sweet sleep, I heard a voice whisper in my ear. "My name is Yukinoshita Yukino, Hikigaya Hachiman. I hope you commit it to memory."

I turned, startled, but no one was there to greet me. The curtains flapped, and the windows swung from its place. Did she jump back down?

That woman is crazier than a Cat Hag.

Yukinoshita, huh? You sure have quick feet.

* * *

 **[1] Angel Beats Reference. Go watch it now.**

 **[2] Konami Code. It allowed the player to obtain 30 free lives in games made by Konami.**

 **[3] Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya**

 **[4] Yuuno Gasai**

 **[5] Lovecraft's unfinished work; Azathoth.**

 **[6] Please Twins!**

 **[7] Konosuba**

 **[8] Nasuverse reference. The Vampires, or more commonly called Dead Apostles, made reality marbles to suit their needs. Reality Marbles are your soul given form.**

 **[9] another Nasuverse reference. Shirou Emiya is a distorted individual who believes that saving people will bring him happiness.**

 **[10] Oreimo reference**

 **[11] The United States Citizenry has more than 400 million guns shared around. Yes, that's a lot.**

 **[12] 18782, can be read as "i-ya-na-ya-tsu" (いやなやつ), meaning unpleasant guy.**

 **[13] Reference to Katawa Shoujo. The main character has arrythmia, a disease that makes him prone to heart attacks. In several situations where his girls are doing something cute, a lot of the times, he feels like having a heart attack; though those are only mentioned in comic strips. The game actually doesn't feature that. It would be too cruel.**

 **[14] To Aru Majutsu no Index Reference. The main character has a catchphrase telling the enemy that he'll break their illusions. His ability is to negate everyone else's ability and punch them in the face.**

 **[15] Nisemonogatari; one of the portmanteaus of its name.**

 **[16] Many light novel authors are reported to never leave their computers. KEK. It's not true.**

 **[17] Another Nasuverse Reference. Sakura is a character that Shirou will eventually woo in one of the routes. She has a worm in her heart that her grandfather forcefully put in to hold her hostage.**

 **[18] Woody WoodPecker Show reference. The Guy is a woodpecker, named Woody.**

* * *

 **And done, tune in next time for an interlude and three parts of a chapter.**


	6. Yukinterlude 01

**Yukinterlude 01**

Rapunzel.

A tale of a princess confined in an ivory tower with no doors. Where the princess gazes upon the world through her one window, letting no one, except her Sorceress Mother come in.

She observes at the world through her window deliberating on its constituents. Day in and day out, as her breath transmogrified to become exhausted exhalations, her only hopes hinging on the stories that her mother brings of her. In return, she sings for her mother, washing away the stresses of her day.

Through her mother, she learned about the world. Through her mother, she understood that the world was dirty. Through her mother, she had learned to fear the world.

Then one day, a prince came upon her ivory tower. She was singing without a care in the world, as there was no world for her to be wary of.

The prince was enamoured by the princess' song.

Asking her to lend down her hair, the prince intruded upon her haven. The princess, understanding that the world was made of a sludge of sin and debauchery, was considerably frightened at his appearance in her life. But underneath that fear, lied an innate curiosity which could kill a cat

The prince wooed her with tales of his adventures. Day and night they conversed about the different viewpoints imposed upon them, whether by experience or by word-of-mouth. Slowly, the prince endeared himself to her, with promises that he'll take her out one day to see the world.

Then, a disastrous event happened to both of them.

The Sorceress came down and struck like lightning, pushing the prince out of the tower that made the princess' home.

The prince blinded by the thorns piercing his eyes, crawled slowly out of the underbush.

The sorceress then turned to the princess, asking if that filth had defiled her in anyway. The princess answered, begging for forgiveness.

In the end, the sorceress mother couldn't bear to have an impure daughter, so she threw her out into the wilderness. The princess suffered greatly, wondering if the world she always longed to see, wondering if it was all worth it in the end.

She sang quietly.

For hours she sang in hopes that her song — that she knew alleviated her mother's worries — would soothe her own. She sang for herself, not knowing the dangers of the world around her, immersed in a world of her own.

The prince, blinded from the thorns, and hearing the beautiful sound of the princess' voice, found her. Not knowing anything else, she hugged the prince dearly, crying for him. Her tears managed to clear the prince's eyes, a miracle that made him able to perceive the world around him once more.

The prince took her to his kingdom, and they lived happily ever after.

...No one talked about how the sorceress felt. They knew her as the villain, who would scorn her only daughter away when she learned that someone else had already touched her. It's outside morality.

Yet, the sorceress wasn't her mother at all. She just took care of her as her own, never loving her. She used her as if she was a toy to amuse herself with.

What would a child do with a toy they had broken?

They'd throw it away.

The toy could only hope that they're durable enough to withstand the harsh treatment they receive.

I digress. This isn't about the sorceress. It was about the princess.

What would have happened if the princess never met the prince? Or rather, what if the prince never asked her to go with him?

…

" _Averting your gaze from the problem doesn't make it go away!"_

This was a sunday.

"Are you sure about this, Yukino-chan?"

A world of boxes.

That was the state of the room I had spent the majority of my life. Cardboard boxes stacked upon one another. They, carrying paraphernalia that I've accumulated throughout my stay in this house, seemingly fixed to each other, never swayed or moved from their spot. The beauty is in the rigidness of the towers built of blocks, that to take one from its place required finesse and care, and to take one meant that to take the toppermost part.

If it were one existence, it merely lost a part of itself to preserve the whole.

I turned to Mother, nodding almost imperceptibly to anyone who viewed this from afar. Despite this, my mother's gaze softened, and she held her fan down.

To many others, it would be seen as her being generous, but to one such as I, who had lived with her and know her mannerisms, she was livid. Like the hammer of a judge, the verdict was struck, and the courtroom silenced.

"I will miss you, your father will miss his little Yukino-chan. Our Haru-chan would, too," her voice, always soft and unmistakable, carried a tone of commandment.

"I understand that Mother, Father, and Onee-chan will worry for me," I said. The words came out practiced. How could they not, for I said this to her nearly every meeting between us? A scene that has been repeated many a time.

"But please bear in mind, that I am doing this for my future. By leaving the nest, I may be able to learn to fly."

My reasons were logical. My mother heard only logic and discarded emotion, lacking not empathy for efficiency. In something that was to be proposed to her, by the heavens or hells themselves, if a hole was found, she would ruthlessly open.

"Very well," I heard Mother say. Once more the room was quiet, only the sounds of shuffling boxes and working footsteps lilted the air.

Yet, I do not understand why Mother goes through this everyday, as I made my reasons as logically sound as I could, and Mother could clearly see that I will follow through with them. There were no holes she could rebuke, no doors of Socratic questioning she could use, for I will always have an answer to it.

But as she turned and left, the flames brewing within my heart were doused.

Hisabari-san looked at me with a frown on his face as he carried one box away from the room. My heart smoldered once more, the sight of his disapproval being the fuel for the flame.

He knows nothing, my cognition said. My heart still blazed in heat, but despite this, I didn't respond with disapproval.

That passage from the Diaries echoed in my mind.

 _A man running amok loses all his sensibilities. To run amok comes from the word mag-amok, which means to lose one's self into passion and emotion. A man who does that becomes not a man himself, but a monster in men's clothing._

 _I clutched my nose in anger as my rival in love mocked me for not retaliating. He didn't know who I was. He didn't know what I could do. He most certainly didn't know that I could obliterate him and his existence from the face of the earth. But to lose myself in anger would be to lose myself in its entirety._

 _I would change irrevocably._

 _I remember the promise made under the Vaulting Canopy of the Ever Tree._

My emotions were controlled by my mind — anything that I feel was ultimately from my mind — therefore, as long as I see to it that I don't lose control of my mind, and give in to my emotions, I am myself.

Losing control won't help me.

In any case, as the man passed me by, I realized that he was a persona non grata. How foolish of me to be riled up on someone that doesn't matter. In a way, the strength of my mother's influence was strong, too strong.

The fault is not with him.

He doesn't understand the situation itself, he only understood what he could see. In the same way, he's just like me — just like he knows only through what he sees through my mother, I know what I see through her as well.

He was a family man, inferring from his disapproval of my actions. He works several hours, possibly to send his children allowances as they attend a public school, subsidized by the government. He has a loving wife and children who adore him, which is why he couldn't understand what I was doing.

In spite of all of that, I still couldn't understand him fully. I won't bother though as it's not my problem.

"Yukinoshita-sama," a voice called out to me, "we'll fix up your apartment for you for a few more hours, you best use this time to say goodbye to your room. I know I would."

"Please do not make baseless suppositions. I've bid my farewells to the room plenty enough, Karumaki-san. If that is all, you are free to no longer bother me."

"Sure, sure." Footsteps rounded on the stairway, "but you never know when things get bad, y'know." He chuckled. It was a rueful chuckle, perhaps he was reminiscing of an experience he had similar to mine.

No matter.

He's a character whom I no longer will meet after this.

Taking what possibly could be my last sight of my room for a while, I left. A pull from my cheeks told me that I was smiling. Even as the family butler, Karumaki-san, pulled the door for me, I never let the smile leave my face.

A smile is supposed to signal to others of the happiness one has.

I certainly want to show people that I was filled to the brim with happiness.

…

As I walked out of the manor, I was greeted with the sight of my elder sister, Haruno, leaning on her car with that perpetual smile plastered on her face. There was never a time I did not see that smile, to the point I almost believed that it was a permanent fixture on her face.

She wore the clothes of a devil's advocate, and her smile mirrored that of what she was advocating.

Her eyes seemed to lit up brighter than the sun above her once she spotted me. What goes on her mind, I have no clue. I imagined schemes flying around her mind as she looked at me with those sharp, predatory eyes.

What sort of torture will she inflict today, I wonder.

Raising her hand, she beckoned me, "Hiya! Yukino-chan! Onee-chan heard that you were leaving and seeing that I'm also going to university, we won't be seeing each other much so…"

She petted the roof of her car. She rubbed the surface lovingly, sliding down its slick frame.

I appraised the car.

Nee-san's car was pristine as when my parents first bought it to her, and like when I first saw it, it felt slippery. Like a whisk against water, it moves through without much fuss in the air. Its frame nearly covering the wheels, so much so that in imagining it go through roads, I couldn't see the wheels as attached to the car. It was a part of it, as much as the steering wheel was.

A car of machine efficiency, for a woman who cared more for the adventure than the treasure.

"…Why don't me and you go for a trip to town, neh?" she beamed, opening the passenger door of her car — some german coupe — and my smile finally left my face.

After much effort, when I'm finally free of my family, that's the exact moment my sister chose to strike. She wanted to prolong my discontent. I have no idea why she wanted to do that, but I'd rather prefer that she left me alone.

However, I had nothing better to do.

Without saying anything, I entered the passenger seat of her car. The interior of which was welcoming, if a bit extravagant, mirroring her personality completely. Of course, that is, along as she was in control.

Lavender. The car's aroma was a field of lavender in the summer wind, whispering sweetly into the minds of people who enter. Total sensory control, to make an impression as lasting as possible, as if we were dogs to be trained.

Nee-san entered her car without much fanfare, humming a tune that I know comes from her childish obsession with obscure role-playing games. Honestly, where she finds those games remains a mystery to me, and her never-abating interest into forcing me to play them as well.

Air left me as I plopped on the soft seating. A mistake.

"Don't like Promise, neh, Yukino-chan?" she inquired as the car started, rumbling.

"Quintessence was enjoyable," I spoke, reticent at admitting anything to my sister.

Quintessence: the Blighted Venom had an engaging story-line, with interesting characters and beautiful sceneries. It was story-heavy and dramatic, despite its horrendously puerile title. Although, I postulate that because of its name, it was chosen by my sister.

"I see, I see," Nee-san guffawed, smashing a fist on the steering wheel. For a moment, I thought we were heading toward an accident, though my sister remained true to the road. "Remind me to get you another one next time, I think I finally made you see the light of RPG!"

"I shall endeavor to." I shall not, until the day I die.

I gazed out of the window. The world outside blurred and meshed with each other, with the trees being splotches of green and other things, like a painting by Jackson Pollock. The world was colorful, it screamed out to me.

The world was ugly, I answered. The paintings by Jackson Pollock and other contemporaries never appealed to me, because of their lack of form or shape, only having meaning. Meaning is useless without a medium to convey it.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; to me, people lie and writhe, trying to make people conform in notions that lack beauty, however…

" _If the world is too ugly for you, change it!"_

A forceful hum from my sister brought me out of my musings.

If I had any hopes of a silent car trip, it was dashed away the moment she asked me this.

"Busy day, today, Yukino chan?"

"It was," I said, "managing the laborers is as laborious as the task itself."

"True, which is why Mother delegates her work, you know?" she said, nonchalantly.

Oh, you've never been this direct before. Nee-san, have you finally given up?

Of course not!

If there was one thing we both had in common, even if we were born complete opposites to each other, is that we were both competitive.

That much was provable.

"I'd rather not let anyone touch my personal objects without giving specific instructions in what to do with them first," I answered, creating the most logical response I can. No holes in my defence meant that she had to siege my castle down.

"Don't be like that Yukino-chan, you'll grow old and stiff," she snorted, "live a little."

In the end, she gave up her attack and went toward the wearing my defences. My heart fluttered in my chest as she said that. According to my best estimates, averaging each interaction we have, by the time I wear out, the act of wearing me down would be useless as I already moved out of the house.

 _I was a shield, blocking the path of the attacks my rival shot at me. None of his attacks entered or broke through my defenses, showing to me, and whoever was watching, that my talents are much greater than his. Even though my face felt bruised, as the balls bombard my face, time was on my side._

 _Time was on my side._

In any case, it's my win.

"If, by growing old and stiff," I stated, engaging her with banter, "is congruent with having everything perfect, then I shall be the stiffest and the oldest."

A mistake.

"My, my, Yukino-chan," Nee-san glanced at me from my right, catching my eye. Her eyes lit up like a hunter catching their prey with a well-placed trap, and I felt a cold pit form in my stomach. "Cracking jokes, are we? Any reason for your jovial mood today?"

Or was it because I fell into the snake pit she set for me?

Like a slithering snake, her aura of venom slithered around the car, constricting me, even though she would have bitten me already and dealt with me. It was just like her to play with food, before eating it. My food, specifically.

Despite this, I remained steadfast, not giving into fear. My mind cleared itself, and the answer became apparent before my eyes. I had to play the part of the ignorant fool.

" _To make an omelette, one must crack some eggs."_

"Don't you already know?"

It was demeaning.

She giggled.

"Har, har. I don't think that you leaving us counts as a reason. It's not like you hate us or anything, right?" My elder sister smirked, knowing that she had me enclosed without an opening. With a forced smile, I said,

"I don't hate you, or Mother and Father," my heart was sent through a pile of razor blades, still beating and pumping blood, caring not despite it pumping blood outside the veins. I don't hate my mother and father, nor my sister for that matter, it wasn't that simple. Yet being forced to say this was more demeaning than playing the fool.

Her eyes widened in faux-surprise, and she thumped her chest with an open palm, right above her heart. She knew the right angle to align herself just to show me what she did. A master of manipulation.

She won.

"Then, it must be because you're excited to go out with your dear Nee-chan, right!"

How ruthless.

She giggled. "I love spending time with Yukino-chan too."

If by spend time, you mean relentlessly bother, then I understand why. You're too much, Nee-san. I can endure this no longer.

"Where are we going?" I asked her the one question that has been bothering my mind since the moment I have boarded the car. After seeing the scenery change from the bright greens and polychromatic splotches riddled in, to dark and constant greys, we were heading towards the bigger city proper.

She grinned.

"Isn't it obvious? We're going to the mall!"

The mall? The road signs seemed to point that way as well. There wasn't much that I enjoy being at the ostentatious shopping centers, so my being there is as useless as a screw placed in the wrong area.

"I don't have anything particular that I need to go shopping for, Nee-san,"

"We're not only going shopping in the mall, Yukino-chan," she said, then her grin widened, "though we might get you a little 'new home' gift, neh?"

I won't have any space to put that home gift in if the laborers don't damage anything. Giving me a new home gift for my apartment won't do anything.

"Don't be too generous, Nee-san," I said. Mirroring Mother's words always had a great effect when dealing with elder sister, that in which using it is ammunition against her.

My sister frowned.

I was struck with reality. A hammer to the face, or rather, in this case, a sword to the jugular. It was awe-inspiring, the kind that has both meaning of fear and exultation, at being in the presence of so. In another time, perhaps not in this, I would be extroverted to ask my sister why, offering solace in faux-understanding of a different person — but that time is not this time — and that person is not I.

In this time, instead, I speculated.

Why was she doing that action? What could she gain from showing me that action? Is making me think the end result what she wanted, or is it something else? The masks she wore on her were numerous, indeed, but she rarely showed masks she disliked wearing — like an actress used to the main role, taking the role of a monster in a suit would be insulting.

I know that to her, that action made people lose youth. And it wasn't an indolent observation as well. Her eyes became heavy, and her breathing labored, as if she had lost more than twenty years of her life.

Was it mother's influence? Was it so deliberating that it could bring problems of another person into someone else?

Those at the top — use their power and influence to delegate the hardest tasks to those on the bottom. It's despicable. A person's worth of conundrums can't be carried by another person with equally the same weight.

The task of delegation itself was despicable.

Asking your children to work for you even more so.

And now — my sister is being delegated by Mother for a task I can't fathom. It was possibly a Herculean task. In spite of what those who meet and know her say, I know that my sister was a human like the rest of us.

Despite what I had come to delude myself with, my sister wasn't omnipotent, and Mother has delegated tasks far more heavier than the world Atlas carries.

It shows.

"I know, I know," she said, her tone of voice carried within a tinge of disappointment.

I don't understand, was there something I missed in my conclusion?

What was she exhausted of?

She continued, "Mother basically imprinted herself on you, it's a wonder if you have anything that's 'you' in there. But I finally saw hope, you know, when you said that you wanted to move out."

The way she talked reminded me of a challenge she made for me when we were children. She

said if I could solve a puzzle that she gave me, then I could understand her.

Of course…

"I don't understand."

I can't understand.

Her puzzle pieces were painted milk white and there were thousands, I couldn't put them into place — it wasn't possible.

And there it was, the same look of disappointment she gave me years passed when I told her that it wasn't possible.

" _There were many ways to solve this, Yukino-chan."_

I can't.

What did she mean?

"Of course, you don't." Her smile reflected off the rear-view mirror, "You're not an onee-chan." The reflection changed as she adjusted it, and it showed the cars behind us, "So you wouldn't understand what your dear Onee-chan feels now?"

I could hear her take a gulp of air.

"You'll always be my cute little sister, though," she said, with finality.

And with that, silence blessed us with his presence. And while I tried to rack my head to exhaustion, pondering whatever double-triple-quadruple meaning she tries to convey to me, I couldn't help but quip.

"It's hard not being a 'cute little sister' when you're the little sister, Nee-san."

She laughed. The familiarity of it brought comfort to my heart, and I reveled in its sound. Despite many things, we were sisters.

"True, true, say have you found a boyfriend yet?" she asked.

How salacious, to ask that of your sister while you yourself do not have. Boldness is what the world would say if the results lead to success, brash, if the results lead to failure.

"I've had none," I answered. "The boys in my class," I waved a hand "my school," my face was now completely staring across the window, "were complete and utter imbeciles."

They weren't sophisticated in thoughts. One could even say that they barely use their brains, seeing as the garbage spouted from their mouths wasn't indicative of any real-life knowledge, or was empirically founded upon through almost religious observation of the world.

Unlike him.

He could see what ails and what could be done to fix them. His eyes, ever described by his peers as disgusting, could only see the world as it truly was.

"You won't find a boyfriend if you don't lower your standards,Yukino-chan," she said, and I could feel her smile seeping through her words.

I retaliated, "I assume that you found yourself one, Nee-san? For you to talk about having a partner so callously, have you lowered your standards to that of the common man, and not of the saints?"

"That's mean!" Nee-san whined. "You don't ask about your Nee-chan's lovelife! That's what we do to our little sisters, don't do a role reversal so suddenly!"

"It's not a role-reversal if there was no script we were following."

"You still don't get it, do you? The world's a stage, and we're all actors for a sick god." Her overly boisterous laughter once again resounded off the windows.

No, if that was the case, then he'd be more of an outside observer than a deity. A person who sees but does not act, when injustice is blatant in front of them, is a person that I can't forgive.

Morally, it is wrong.

Practically — the world ignores it.

"I do not believe in such foolish notions of a deity," I said.

"Ah, well, you're right about that," she agreed, almost readily so. "But I can't help but feel that there's someone above, just writing what we do and how we feel."

"That's grounds for psychotic paranoia, I hope we don't have to send you to the mental ward," I quipped.

Her voice that answered was strangely bemused.

"You never know, Yukino-chan, the world is stranger than you assume."

 _In the end, I win because I knew that Orimoto loved me. But proving that I loved her back was my goal in this endeavor. My face may be bruised, and myself mocked and jeered, but her smile at me while she helped me up from the ground, like the healer that she was, took away whatever afflicted me._

…

"Do you know what the Universe Simulation theory is?"

We had arrived at the mall. Per usual, I had nothing to do here, as my shopping has been taken care of beforehand, and I didn't need anything at the moment for other pursuits. My sister had other ideas, however.

Where now I sat here, trying to maneuver a virtual car with a plastic steering wheel.

"Of course," I answered. It was a simple enough hypothesis for the world and seemed to be the backbone of several different science fiction stories that nowadays, no person in this world has not heard of it.

The simulation hypothesis proposes that all of reality, including the earth and the universe, is in fact an artificial simulation, most likely a computer simulation.

"Then, you'd know that it also gives more a dilemma than it answers, right?"

A crash to the wall, which would've destroyed my car, and given the driver such a nasty shock to his body, were this real, caused me to lose my built up momentum. This lead me to lose my 7th place, the last place before last place, which I had painstakingly captured before the crash.

"When you look at these games, all these simulacra of reality, and you hear that reality itself may be a game; the phrase 'art imitates life' gains a more depth, don't you agree?"

Turn. Overtake.

"Who would play such a realistic game?"

Turn. Crash.

"I don't know. Masochists would be my first guess — as hilarious as that sounds! — but perhaps the answers may be the most inconspicuous ones."

Turn. The car in front of me lagged in speed. If I keep this up, I may capture 6th place before the finish line.

"What is it?"

Turn. Overtake. Sweat poured from my forehead, its wetness drenching me in the icy arcade environment. Concentration was diverted to ignore the prickly feeling.

I see the another car in front of me.

"Normally, I'll make you think. But seeing that you're currently preoccupied taking 5th place from an NPC, I'll tell you directly…"

Turn.

Overtake.

Crash.

I lost speed, and was overtaken by the two behind me.

I managed to reach the finish line, taking last place. The words 'game over' flashed in bold bright red with linings of dark maroon as the shot of my the leaderboard and the highlights of the race flashed by.

"They're likely to be the ones who wanted a restart in life."

RESTART? The words taunted.

...

 _Sounds of footsteps clattered up the stairways. My legs ran as fast as it could. My destination, to reach the rooftop of the school, and to stop someone from doing something idiotic._

 _I found him, standing on the rails, the winds looking like he'd be blown over. It is almost too late._

" _Don't!" I screamed out._

 _He looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry Hachiman, my life ended when Sachi died. I tried. I tried. I tried with difficulty to live for her! In the end though, living the burden of two lives was too burdensome."_

" _Sachi is still alive!"_

 _The gathering of leaves from wayward winds sounded like something snapped. Several times._

" _What?"_

 _But it was too late._

 _He lost balance and almost plummeted to his death. Instead, he fell face first on the floor of the roof._

" _I have a call from HQ. It's said that her body was merely lost in the dungeons. She managed to get out at the last second and a wandering onmyoji healed her back to health!"_

 _He smiled. "She's had a restart, huh."_

" _No, you can't restart your life. It's not possible. You'd be only prolonging the inevitable, which is disgusting in its own right."_

…

"Why are we still here, Nee-san?"

After our escapade at the arcade, Nee-chan dragged me to whichever frivolous shops she could find. Clothes, shoes, women's shops; anything that seized her sight she went to with a smile on her face, my exhausted self following behind her. And with the shopping center being so large, the shops we went through and will go through were seemingly endless.

However, we carried nothing on us. Yes — despite entering many shops in this forsaken place, our hands were still empty. Which, led me to question my sister.

"Hmmm? Oh, we're just window shopping for your welcoming home present."

"... That again Nee-san? I thought I told you I didn't need anything at the moment."

"But gifts are meant to be something that isn't needed, Yukino-chan! That's the whole point of gift-giving. Rather than something that is useful to the person in question, gifts are symbolic of the feelings that the giver carries." If gifts were symbols of the intent that the gift giver has for the person, then why were we at a toy shop. Was this symbolic of you seeing me as a toy, Nee-san?

"Explain to me why we are at a toy-shop, then," I asserted.

Various stuffed animals lined the shelves to my right, and various more robotic toys lined to the left, with two lifelike dolls standing right in the middle. Were someone to spot us, they might want to buy us, though it would be illegal and induce upon ourselves slavery, the cashiers might fail to recognize that we are, indeed, living breathing human beings.

I and my sister had been described many times to be dolls. It was frustrating to hear, like a broken record that sang blackboard scratches to your ear.

"Seeing that clothes, shoes and makeup would be useless to you anyway, I decided to get you a toy!"

"I thought that uselessness was the point of gift-giving?"

"You misunderstand me. I meant that while useless things are usually given to the receiver, the best things are those you'd see them have in their houses. Clothes, shoes and makeup are usually hidden behind something, and you don't need any decorative furniture in your house.

...So Onee-chan thought, "Why not get something that Yukino-chan will remember me by everyday?"

A teddy bear was shoved in front of my face.

"With this, you'll remember me every time you sleep. Think of it as Onee-chan protecting you while she's far away~"

"N-nee-chan."

The teddy bear was taken out of my field of view.

"This isn't right for you though. I need something fierce, something intimidating, so that all the monsters in the night will think twice before messing with my Yukino-chan!"

She started moving away from me, looking through the boy's section of the toy-store. I could hear her mutter something like, "Gundam would protect her right? But I don't think having it transform in the middle of the night and destroying her new apartment would do any good."

Though once she left me, I was once again struck with the realization that without my sister, I had nothing to do. Obviously, standing stiff straight in the middle of a store would make me look stupid, so I decided to wander around, eyeing some of the price tag like as if I was choosing to buy a gift.

Then—

I spotted it.

Something cute.

I held it.

The fur was black and white, two deep contrasts of color that showed the struggles of morality the character had. Eyes and teeth and claws that glinted to you a predatory nature, yet if one were to know who he was, you'd understand that underneath all that — a kind individual roughened by the cruelties of the world. Yet despite this, despite all its flaws, it only emphasized more of its cute nature.

Pan-san!

O' Pan-san, the wonderful panda, heareth my plea. Would thou want to play with me?

He seemed to reply, with that gruff manner of speaking he always had, "My lady, I would do anything to spend time with you—"

"Pan-san~! You like him, Yukino-chan?"

I kicked myself out of the delusion before I did anything that would shame me for life.

"He's wonderful. The perfect example of a character that everyone should follow. If one were to make a character based out of him — with only a fraction of his traits — and made a story, it would soundly demolish the earnings of a horrible excuse of a literature, which is nothing but a self indulgent trash written by a certain imbecile housewife." **[1]**

"I thought you'd like it, Yukino-chan~" my sister laughed.

It was no laughing matter, Nee-san.

"So, that, eh?" my sister circled around me and the Pan-san plushie. Then she grabbed out of my hands.

No!

"Fierce, strong and powerful," my sister complemented, "has a good side to him too," she continued, brushing some of the artificial fur around his sharp eyes, "kinda like me, so you'd be thinking of me every night when you sleep!"

"Cease your slander!"

"Do you want it or not, Yukino-chan~"

I was faced with two choices. To accept or to not accept. If I were to accept, I would have to accept that my sister was there with me every night. If I didn't, I wouldn't get Pan-san.

"In the end, there wasn't really a choice," I mutter.

"Hmmmm? What was that, Yukino-chan?"

"Get me another toy, just not Pan-san. I don't think I can bear to see him, and then see you above him, every moment I go to sleep," I said.

"That's cruel," Nee-san said. "Then I'll just have to give you something that's more 'me', then~!"

Thus in the end, we only got a toy robot.

…

After heading out of the toy store, after purchasing our things, I could safely say that my sister and I were exhausted. That is correct, my sister is exhausted. Impossible, you might say. But the words of my sister echoed through my mind.

" _The world is stranger than it seems"_

Of what, she didn't mention.

"Hey," my sister called out, "I'm starving, let's eat over there."

We entered a cafe situated near the entrance of the mall. The cafe was lined with smooth wood, garnished and painted over with graffiti you'd normally find outside on private property walls, and the speakers were blaring barely understandable lyrics under music of what seems to be cannons and trash cans for instruments.

Where did she take me?

The people in the cafe looked like monsters from a Halloween party, with their bright colored hair, piercings and dark lips. Were they vampires? It seemed to be the case, when the waiter greeted us with a toothy grin that showed us his fangs.

Sharp fangs.

I'm surprised his mouth wasn't dripping blood constantly.

I also noticed that people here were wearing what seemed to be loose leather jackets, loose shirts, and loose pants — the fact that every time they move showed more skin than what is possible under public law only made me stare at them.

I looked over at what my sister and I wore.

We stood out like a candle light in the midst of darkness.

" 'Ello" even their manner of speaking was different, what dimension have you sent me? "Seat's 'ere are almost full, you're in luck that we has one table left for occupancy."

Is this their goblin servant? Or did the One Ring cause him to turn out this way? Either way, I feel pity for this fool.

"We'll take that then!" Nee-san smiled at him prettily, and blood rushed to his face. To see him, already dressed as a monster, suddenly turn red, scared me that an _Oni_ was here taking our orders.

"Nee-san," I grabbed my sister's sleeves, hugging to her closer. In response, she smiled and strided to the place where there were no people, and the walls had scratches. She left me behind with this beast!

I slowly walked towards where my sister sat at, mindful of the stares I received. Their judgmental gazes seemed to tell me that I wasn't welcome here, that I was a fool for even entering their safe haven, that this was their territory. I wanted to say that I wasn't here by choice, but I couldn't.

Instead, I glared back at them. I challenged them in their own territory, like a conqueror ready to beat the barbarians and civilize them. They straightened up their backs and pat their pants, all the while averting their gaze away from me; and I was reminded of Julius Caesar's maxim: I came, I saw, I conquered.

As I sat down, my sister said, "Don't you like it here? They're so lively! Thinking of what they do and what they feel entertains me so much, like, how had they led their life before this point?"

"I care not for the rabble that cares not for common decency."

My sister sighed. She lifted up a fork, using it to open a poor man's leather notebook with the sloppily written words 'Menu' on the front. The words scrawled once the contents were revealed looked as if it was written by several five year olds with markers, complete with whatever drawings these five year olds made, along with an assortment of exorbitant prices that made me question the sanity of the people running this establishment.

Perhaps if my sister would throw the menu like that person Kyou would… **[2]**

The fact that I am questioning them now, after all that I've seen, tells me of how much of a shock this place was.

My sister beckoned the waiter to us. His ghoulish face becoming even more haunting as the lighting near the walls dimmed.

Are they doing a Halloween theme this early in the year?

"Me take yer order, misses," he smiled, his bleached teeth glinting, "prices 'ere completely fair, no doubt."

Fair? These were outrageous! The fact that you have any business at all astounds me. What kind of rituals have you been doing underneath your basements to make this work? Were your faces really a sacrifice for money?

Do you take your business advice from that woman, Suzumiya Haruhi-san? **[3]**

My sister ordered for us, "I'll have the Crawling in my Skin cake, I've become so numb sandwich and an order of Witches' Blood Potion. Yukino-chan will have...the White Life Force Cream Cake and the I'll pop your cherry cupcake, with an order of Pale Yellow Potion."

What.

Was that a menu or the potions list for a witch?

A few moments later, our meals arrived.

My sister's Crawling in my Skin cake looked like a regular lemon cake, the I've become so Numb sandwich was a regular tuna sandwich, and the Witches' Blood Potion seemed to me to be cranberry juice.

My own White Life Force Cream Cake and I'll pop your cherry cupcake was subsequently a Vanilla and Cherry flavored cake, while my drink looked like lemon juice.

At least I hope it was lemon juice.

The room around me was filled with too much noise that I'm disappointed in our law enforcement that they didn't close down this shop for violations on public noise laws. With the blaring "music" from the speakers and the increased shouting of these gorillas to speak, it was a wonder how anyone was able to hear or speak in here.

My sister, however, managed without much fuss.

As she forked her lemon cake, she said, "These people have lives too, you know. You don't know much about them just to dismiss them like that. They have circumstances that caused them to be this way."

"I do not dismiss them. But I do not wonder how they lead their lives either, I feel that would be too creepy," I said, the surety of my voice reaching her was something I wasn't certain of.

"That's true. You don't know that these are even real conscious people in the first place. They could be pre-programmed characters, NPCs, that merely serves as fodder for a stage to entertain the gods." I strained to hear her speak, the sounds of banging and rocking ever increasing. My eardrums felt like an orchestral tambourine; each beat of the song; each cry of the customers; the noise faded into a monochrome white with her voice being the only guiding light.

I understood her words, however.

"You talk as if you were a main character rather than another side character, Nee-san," I said. The implication that she was an actor in the midst of all the fodder was a foolish one to make, my own principles disagreed with that fundamentally.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just another pre-programmed AI thinking that it has sentience, rather than an actual human. You never know with these things," she smiled. Even as I strained to hear her words, the honesty of her words stood out in the inane chatter and gunfired music.

"Is this related to the talk we had earlier?" I said, keeping to the volume I used before.

"It could be. You never really gave your opinion on it," she said.

"Well, what would you define as an actual human, if that were the case?" I asked.

"Strong-willed, unbending to the world and having their own thoughts and opinions as opposed to the masses of sheeple that people are today. Non-conforming, rebellious and free, that's what I think they are," she said.

"Then, wouldn't Mother be one?" To confirm something, this was the quintessential question that I had to ask.

"Mother, huh, she certainly fits the strong willed and unbending traits, but non-conforming, rebellious and free? She's more conforming to society than any one of us."

"...Then you're wrong."

" _Even if society tells you that everything was meant to be this way, the fact that people existed that changed the world and how we know it proves that it could be changed still. There's no end to change, only an end in effort."_

"Oh? And how would I be wrong?"

" _A person who is resistant to change_ — _truly resistant_ — a _nd hasn't changed in years, has lost the will to do so. Efforts could be made by other parties, but it would only serve a useless purpose. This doesn't mean that they couldn't be changed, however. It merely means one has to put in more effort to change them."_

" _Only truly extraordinary people can change a person who has no will left to do so."_

"You cannot associate being free and rebellious with being human, and then lump strong-willed and unbending at the same time. It's a fallacy to think that someone who has sentience automatically thinks that they are free.

" _To say that I don't change is a fallacy."_

"A person has different circumstances leading up to their life, the traits that they gain are a byproduct of that, therefore assuming that the simulation was as realistic as possible, then wouldn't those traits be naturally gained?"

 _I changed a lot. In meaningful ways._

The circumstances of my life before, and now, are different. I am free to do so, because I'm human. I'm human, and that's why I get to choose my life. No one shall dictate it for me, not any more.

If you can't accept that, and belittle me as a human being, than I challenge you for that right again.

She stares at me in surprise. Then she laughs. It was small and barely audible from the ruckus that is this cafe, but to me, it was as loud as dancing giants.

"I'm sure that you're human too, Yukino-chan," I saw my sister smile at me. This time, however, I couldn't see her mask.

" _You understand now, Kaori-chan?"_

" _I don't see what that's gotta do with you playing against Mitaka-kun. It doesn't have anything to do with you not changing. Besides, I like you the way you are."_

…

My trip to the mall with my sister had left me with little to no time for my plans. The plan that I meticulously crafted to account for every single factor, giving myself ample amount of time if anything were to go south, had been pushed to the absolute edge of what was possible for me to do.

That day was my final day in the Yukinoshita household, an oppressive and choking place — like a pit of vipers — where the only salvation was getting out. I got out during school time, which was the only time that I could free myself, but that was merely replacing a pit of vipers for a pit of tigers.

No matter where I go, there were always those…

 _People hate the fact that someone else is better than them, and would delude themselves, and the people around them so._

Another line from the Diaries popped, its words that ring true, bring me nothing but comfort.

What luck, that following a cat to the dumpster had brought me something worth more than the treasures hidden by pirates in the Caribbean. Where wisdom to watch the world with is abundant, and the words simple to understand. Endless was the bravery of Hikigaya Hachiman, the vessel of the Eternally Absent Nameless God, as he attempts to change the world for the better.

The end brought me little hope for the story continuing, as the story ended with Hachiman losing his powers and forgetting his adventures, in the hopes of being one with the people he had so wanted to change.

The last page, when I had read it, felt treacherous. Yet I understood the intent. The vessel was tired. The world he tried to change refused to even show hints of it changing. The idiocy of man becoming more and more apparent as the diary entries became more sparse and colorless, like the world had turned grey for him.

He was desperate to reach his colors, after his promise under the Vaulting Canopy of the Ever Tree was shattered by his love. In the attempt to understand her, he had forsaken his beliefs and memories, in the hope for a reset.

Perhaps. It's all just speculation on my part.

Speculation that may have been disproven.

For I had seen him on the way to school, trying to save a dog, but ultimately fail. He doesn't have his powers anymore. He couldn't heal himself nor the dog, and losing consciousness was something that Hachiman in the book rarely did.

...but I knew that it was him.

There was no mistaking his picture on the back of the diary, dressed in his garb to fight the Organization that threatened to absolve the world through endless war. Only dressed in a Sobu High school uniform.

Fujimi Academy uniforms did not look like Sobu High ones. **[4]**

Him trying to save that dog from dying was proof enough.

My moving out was meticulously planned. My sister threw a wrench to those plans. But I no longer cared. I had a new plan that my sister couldn't throw a wrench in. Rather, my own conscience did.

I planned to meet him right after school, but I couldn't bear the thought of meeting his parents. It would seem like a mockery of an assassin wanting to finish the job. I knew that I wasn't, but I'd rather not ignite the tempers that were already flared, to begin with.

When I arrived home at the new apartment, I immediately opened the drawer under my bed. Inside was a box filled with items of miscellaneous types. I did not care for those, for the imperative objective I sought was the stack of notebooks on the side.

I opened the one I knew carried the line I was looking for — as these books were known to me by heart — and finding the things I wanted to read became a matter of taking the right notebook from the stack.

There.

Underneath the dim light of the bedroom stand, the words read, " _If something was important, and everything was there to stop you from planning on how to do it, then walk to it without a plan. The longer you wait, the worse it might get. "_

The unconventional wisdom of Hikigaya Hachiman may be what I needed.

…

Under the dim light of the moon's impetus, the sun's heat and radiance lost as the night falls, the wind became ever so colder. The air clawed at my face as I moved through the icy wind. My exhalations became a visible white cloud of frozen vapor.

Yet I persevere on.

The hospital he was sent to on the Yukinoshita family's behest was a luxury hospital that only the country's rich and powerful may be able to afford to stay a single night at. It was famous enough that such ludicrosity allowed less vacancy. Thus, in its luxury, friends and family may stay nearby on beds near the patient, and visiting hours extended for those not of friends and family.

However, even with the extended visiting time, I was still too late.

There was an added secret benefit for the luxury of the hospital, though. The management, the Miura family, in the vain attempt to make the hospital safer, had added more fire escapes than what is needed for a building that size.

The main building was adorned with two buildings on its side, both taller and more modernized than it. On their sides were the fire escapes I needed to climb.

Thusly, my plan is to navigate those stairs in the hopes of getting close enough to his window. I knew which area he was in. We were the ones that put him in there in the first place.

Inhale. Exhale. I nodded to myself. The rails of the fire escape froze my fingers as soon as I touched it. The first step carried an updraft of icy wind that shredded my skin, though I only felt that way. I kept on, reaching the edge of the window that I knew he was behind in.

Balancing my foot on the ledge and carrying myself there with only my leg was simple. Impeccable balance due to ballet and coordination training to climb mountains made the task as easy as opening a can with a can opener. Now it was merely the time to wait until he opens the window to let me in.

I knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

 _Knock-knock-knock-knock.  
_

The night grew colder still. How long will he be asleep for? I knocked several times and loudly, he should've been alert enough to hear it. Was his "56th skill: Alertness" truly just a fantasy in his mind? Orimoto-san had many a surprise to him, now that I think about it.

I saw him rise up from his bed languidly, then plop back down as soon as he saw my shadow. What was he doing? This wasn't his behavior during encounters with enemies or something strange! He was supposed to confront it, rather than ignore it and desire for it to go away!

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

He finally stood up and turned to me.

It was him.

His dead eyes bore straight into my soul, and I felt like I was being appraised, like an object for its worth. I kept my posture confident, as I knew that it was his way to see if I was worth his time. Once sufficient time has passed, I felt that he no longer judged me and was merely contemplating on why I appeared on his window.

I mimicked opening the window.

He looked at me confused.

My exhausted exhalation brought a sheet of vapor on the window. I wiped it away and pantomimed to him what he was supposed to do.

He seemed to get the intent and opened the window graciously. Then when I landed on the ground, he had averted his gaze and laid on his side. It was insulting.

I used his catchphrase. _"Averting one's gaze from the problem doesn't solve it, Hikigaya-kun."_

Maybe that would jog his memory. It was a long-shot, further than what man was able to reach, yet maybe he would remember who he was then. Of course, I don't think that he'd suddenly gain his powers back, as that would be unrealistic.

He slowly turned to face me. His face was even deader than his eyes. The silvery lunar light glowed his face pale on one side and the darkness clutched his face on the other. From there, I had realized that this was a man being pulled apart by his ideals and reality, that he would rather sleep away his memories than be washed away by them.

Finally, I heard his voice.

Finally… it's just the two of us… Hikigaya-kun **[5]**

"It only becomes a problem if you make it a problem," he said. His voice lacked the spirit in his words, and the words themselves were spoken from a corpse too stubborn to die.

Disappointment was laced in his voice as he spoke.

I did not expect this.

I feared this instead.

When he said this, it merely proved to me what I had been fearing before. This wasn't Hachiman of the Diaries. This wasn't the man that bravely said that he'd fix the world's problems one by one when he sees them.

This wasn't the man that would save everything successfully as long as he was there.

This was the Hikigaya-kun of the transformation.

This was a boy who couldn't save a dog. This was a boy who had been forced into the hospital due to having a broken leg. This was a boy who'd rather forget everything than be that person from before.

He had—

He had forgotten who he was.

The conversation we had next only proved to me that this was a boy who was a shell of his former self, who was weak and didn't know what to do about it. A shadow. Someone living a life that he shouldn't be living.

In the end, I couldn't help but feel pity for him. I was disgusted at what he became. But I felt pity for the man that I respected in the Diaries, for if he could see what happened to him after his transformation, he'd surely try to help…

That was it!

The Hachiman of the Diaries would certainly try to solve problems he could see!

" _Only truly extraordinary people can change a person who has no will left to do so."_

I could hear him speak.

"What are you doing here?"

I didn't know what to tell him. I came here to see what happened to the man in the books. That was it. I don't know how to answer that question without being called delusional or a thief. But even as I contemplated my answer, instinct had my mouth speak.

"I came to see a hero."

For the first time, I sighed. I was too exhausted, and my endeavors were as fruitless as an orchard in a drought.

"And I saw something pitiful instead." And it truly was pitiful. His face was dim. He looked like he was constantly punished, with a fate worse than what Atlas received, for something less meaningful than what he did.

I kept my gaze on him, watching his face change. Instead of lifeless eyes, I saw them morph into flames as bright as festival fireworks. Suddenly, his face gained more life, and his eyes looked alive.

It was startling.

It was beautiful.

"You came here to see a hero, huh?" he said to me. Then he grinned, and as if his face was taken by the abyssal darkness of the room, everything about him grew dim. He looked like a monster.

"Heroes don't exist in this world..." his voice carried disappointment, as if he yearned for something out of reach, "...You'd be more likely to find a unicorn instead. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep. It's late and I just got run over a car so…"

He shooed me off.

It was now or never.

"Before I leave, I just want you to know," I started, my throat suddenly parched, "that this won't be the end of me."

My voice grew confident as I found confidence in myself.

"I will fix you."

For I, too, have changed in meaningful ways. An extraordinary person like you — _through your words_ — managing to change me shouldn't be snuffed out by the cruelties of the world.

I shall change you, like you did to me.

I leaned in towards his ear, whispering, "My name is Yukinoshita Yukino, Hikigaya Hachiman. I hope you commit it to memory."

Then I jumped out to the open window — moonlight guiding my path.

I will fix you.

… **OMAKE …**

"Their moms are just gay, Yukino-chan. Ignore them." Nee-san dismisses the disgusting looking creature's claiming to be humans, and picks up a menu which looks more like some poor mans leather notebook then a menu. Cringing as she touches it, she slowly opens it and reads the mess that one might call 'words' written inside.

"What the hell is this! You call this food!" Nee-san shouts after briefly looking at the thing they call a menu, gaining the attention of everyone in the cafe. I was surprised that was even possible, considering the music in here was so loud that it masked every sound in here and the street outside of it.

Nee-san then stands, and much like a certain lavender hair girl **[6]** , launches the 'menu' at the nearest sub-human form using her right arm. It flies directly into the things face, probably breaking his nose. The — what I assume man — lets out a surprisingly girly scream when the heavy leather 'menu' impacts it's face, and collapses to the floor.

"We're leaving Yukino-chan! Screw getting back at you for your hurtful words, I will not have us eating in such a dirty, disgusting place!" Nee-san grabs my arm and drags me through the remaining monsters around us.

She may or may not had to have punched some of them out of the way — they were obviously friends of the thing she threw the 'menu' at — but we made it out safely in the end. Nee-san then pulled out a pair of aviator sunglass, a metal Zippo lighter, and a pack of 20 Marlboro cigarettes. She put one of the cigarettes into her mouth and flipped open the lighter with the other hand. She then expertly lights the cigarette, and throws the still lit lighter behind us.

There was a loud explosion behind us, and a large gust of wind followed, blowing my hair around me like a cloak. The cause of the explosion was most likely all the chemicals in the make-up those things were wearing hovering around, condensed into the small poor excuse of a cafe. I go to turn around to inspect the damage, but Nee-san stops me with a hand on my right shoulder.

"Don't turn around Yukino-chan, cool girls don't look at explosions"

She then hands me a matching pair of aviator sunglasses before taking a long puff of her cigarette. She throws away the butt and we walk away from the now burning cafe as people look in awe at us, obviously thinking about how cool we look.

 **Omake from The Mighty Zingy, an absolute madman.**

…

 **References (because Yukinoshita also has some. She isn't Hachiman though.** **Nor is she knowledgeable in his references, if it's anime related** **)**

 **[1] Fifty Shades of Grey. Haruno made her read it!**

 **[2]** **Fujibayashi Kyou from Clannad. Yukino thinks it's a real person though, heh.**

 **[3] Another Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya reference. Face it. I like it. And I'm making Hachiman like it. Yukino thinks it's a real person as well.**

 **[4] Name of the school from High School of the Dead. She thinks that this school is the middle school Hachiman went to.**

 **[5] School Days ending reference. She thinks it fits, but doesn't know what actually happened in the anime, or what scene that line came from**

 **[6] Same thing as above, except The Mighty Zingy wrote it first and told me to write it into the story itself.**

 **...**

 **AN: Alright, you guys have been waiting a week now for the Yukinterlude. Or maybe not. Either way, it's out.**

 **Also thanks to The Mighty Zingy and The Quotable Patella for their beta-ing of this chapter. If not for them, you'd probably have** hundreds **more grammar mistakes just oozing from this sewer rat of a chapter.**

 **And no, this is not a yandere fic. Reference 5 is just a reference. Seeing as Hachiman's diaries are being read by Yukino, you can imagine that he also writes a bunch of references to anime there too. And Yukino being Yukino, will misunderstand most of them.**

* * *

 **Edited as of 2018/08/08**

 **Did some minor timeline fixes** b **ois **.** The Mighty Zingy brought to my attention that they'd have a full day of orientation in Japan, not half-days, so I moved the timeline and made the reflection scene with Yukino a flashback. It's no biggie, it's not like none of you read the ANs or anything.**

 **SO YEAH. You could say, the timeline's fixed. Another reference for you to check on your own.**


	7. 2-1

**Suprisingly, a Half-Truth is a Complete Lie 2-1**

My day started well. No otherworldly beauties jumping from my window, no annoying sisters being clingy, and no mothers admonishing said sister for being clingy.

No one bothered me this morning, and I got to laze around watching the TV. It would honestly be one of the most perfect days I'd have, if it weren't for the TV, I would have literally nothing to do. The TV was once again hogged by the old men, so even that route was taken away from me.

So I sat on bed, watching the news, as the clock slowly dragged itself to noon-time. All that I could think now was:

"I should've asked Komachi to bring me my light novels."

Woe is me…

"You're being tested." A sudden voice rang out.

"What?" A question that many cultures use when they're surprised left my mouth the moment I heard something mind-blowing.

I heard something being dragged on the floor. Soon enough, a woman appeared before my eyes with a chair and placed it on the floor directly next to my hospital bed.

A literal angel that fell from Heaven appeared on my shoulders and said right to my ear, "Hachiman, this is a woman with a stunning body, do what you have to do."

No, that was a euphemism. Angels that fall from heaven turn into fallen angels and fallen angels are synonymous with devils, ergo; I'm being tempted into sinning by a devil. That, and the stunning body in front of me.

A face sculpted from the cleanest marble, hair that cascaded down her back like waterfalls, and eyes a bright grey. Her lips were full as her body was and had a nose daintily pressed on her face by a master mason. Her face was as cute as they could come, and I'm afraid that even Komachi might have some competition.

Though, I think she may lose in _some places._

My eyes trailed down from her beautiful face, as my mind entered into the realm of more salacious thoughts.

More specifically, to the two hopes and dreams of men that seemed to attach themselves to her chest.

She was the mythical big breasted Japanese woman! What's more, they looked natural!

She sat down with her hands raised as if to placate me.

"Relax. These aren't graded, they're merely tests to ascertain your current psychological needs." What? Why do I even need this? I'm perfectly fine!

"I'm Hiratsuka Shizuka, a teacher extraordinaire from the illustrious Sobu High School," the supermodel said, pointing a thumb at herself.

"So I once again say this: You're being tested on your mental stability.'"

"I won't accept some random woman handing out tests like it's free candy."

"Ohoho~ We have a feisty one here."

This beautiful woman, supermodel, succubus temptress, whatever you might want to call her, pointed a finger at me. She crossed her legs and shifted her body so her back was now resting on the chair, giving me her lateral profile. Her face contorted to a sinister gangster's scowl while being completely oblivious to the old men currently gaping at her.

What kind of pose is that? Is she trying to make me feel relaxed by being way too overly relaxed with her posture herself? She's acting like a shounen character!

"This test is exactly like free candy," she said, keeping that pose.

"It's a test that the school deems mandatory, but really, it doesn't affect your grades other than how the school will treat you."

She wore a long-sleeved blouse, covered with a vest adorned by the red tie, and pants that stretched to as far as the eye could see. Exactly like a professional. Her mannerisms, however, seemed to me unlike a professional, and I struggled to grasp with the personification of an oxymoron in front of me. She was a developed woman, yet her actions didn't show that; she was certainly beautiful, yet she fixed her face with a scowl.

A contradiction upon contradiction. It was strangely endearing. What was she doing?

The lighting the room shone against her skin, her lightly powdered face tilted towards me and her eyelashes fluttering. Her mouth transformed from a scowl to a pout instead, and the way she moved on the seat was visually breathtaking. I felt that I could watch her move all day, calming, like watching a river on a hot summer's day.

A cough brought me out of my og—err appraisal of her beauty.

"So really, take your time to answer the questions, no pressure at all," she said, as she looked at me kindly.

Why am I getting motherly vibes from you? You look so young, this isn't right!

Shifty. Her face moved shiftily as if trying out different faces in front of a mirror. I didn't know what to think of it, other than she had the wrong kind of mirror to reflect back at her, and that I'd rather not see someone ascertain their facades directly in front of me.

And it's actually kinda suspicious.

"If you answer honestly, your school life will be spectacular! Imagine that! A perfect youth, no curveballs suddenly sent your way, no anything—like those high school anime nowadays—your life would be perfect!" she exclaimed.

I wonder what she meant by her words. She hadn't hesitated with them and showed full-body energy enthusiasm, to the point of being effusively and uninhibitedly so. No one could be that without acting in the mirror and be practicing several times.

That, or she truly believed in her words.

I don't know what's worse, to be honest. A teacher who believes that everything and everyone would be okay because the school would provide, or someone who knew that not everything was perfect but still lies two-facedly to their students.

A perfect youth, because the school will ensure that?

Don't make me laugh.

Your smile might be pretty, but it's a fool's smile. One that's meant for entertainment, to make sure that the King doesn't know a knife that was already behind his back.

It was distracting. When I scanned her face, she beamed back at me. Such a mask is too reflective Sensei, work on it more. Just what is behind that, I wonder.

"Whatever your worries, the school would make it better for you!"

What are you insinuating? Are you telling me that school could make everyone's life better? Just what kind of person are you for spouting such fallacies?

Are you the type of teacher that tells everyone that everything is fine, and use the child that didn't do anything as a scapegoat. The type where you admonish that child and then tell him that everything would be alright when he tells you that he's being bullied and subtly tell him that it's his fault that they're like that.

Are you the type that says to the parents that you had no clue that bullying was going on when the child brings his concerned parents on the matter? Are you the type to lie to the parents that the school is doing all they can?

In short, you're just a hypocrite, aren't you?

"There's no such thing as a perfect youth," I said. Will she answer positively or negatively I wonder? Either way, they're all the same.

Bunch of hypocrites.

"Huh? Oh, so you're one of those types right? The whole cynical and depressing outlook on life, followed by a dark and gloomy disposition, with a clinical glare that sees the ailments of life — a real-life anti-hero!" she exclaimed. Her hands raised up in the air like she was holding the collective energy of the good people on Earth. **[1]**

I was dumbfounded.

"What?"

"Am I wrong?" she challenged.

"I don't have an ego big enough to label myself as some prime-time shounen main character's rival." **[2]** And I'm not talented enough to be the foil of the 'hardworking' main character, who will eventually beat the 'talented' rival through hard work and DETERMINATION.

What a load of bullshit. The fact that people acknowledge talent existed is already proof enough against such puerile notions.

"A pity. You look so much like that, especially with your glare. I bet with your looks, you could have easily gotten yourself a girlfriend or two… If your eyes didn't look like they came from a dead fish," she said, her lips moving in a slur as her speech slowed. Tilting her head down, the bangs covered her eyes, where I couldn't see it.

"Don't two-time, however, I despise people who two-time then forget that their date was waiting for them in a fancy restaurant filled with people who are super old and super-rich, drinking herself into oblivion as she slowly fills the void in her chest with wine and vodka, thinking to herself positive..." like a crazed lunatic muttering conspiracy theories, she rocked back and forth on her chair.

Was this a recent event? Also, too much information!

"Okay…" I trailed off, wanting to change the subject, but unsure as to what to change it as.

"Ignore that," her eyes flashed daggers and many other sharp objects that could kill me as if it were the Gate of Babylon. **[3]**

"R-right." Strategic Retreat!

I took a glance at the papers I was given.

Question 1:

" _If you were saved after being stranded on a deserted island, and told to bring only your useful things, what items would you leave hypothetically speaking?"_

Hmm...What items should I leave, hypothetically speaking?

"Does this question allow for _anything_ to be left behind?"

"Anything is fine."

 _Things that would be useless for me as soon as I leave the island._

Question 2:

" _When you hear/read the word 'friend', what pops in your mind?"_

 _People who use you for their own nefarious deeds. They're fakes who would probably stab you in the back if it boosts their standing among the masses._

 _In other words, those people are not your true friends._

Question 3:

 _What's the difference between Relatives and Family?_

 _Family is the closest strangers in your life. While a lot of them are annoying, you learn to deal with them due to being in close contact with them all your life._

 _Relatives are parasites that pretend that they're family._

 _Komachi is the best._

Question 4:

 _What are you most proud of?_

 _Komachi._

Question 5:

 _Who is the most precious person in your life?_

 _Komachi._

List your best traits:

 _My ability to raise my sister Komachi to be a fine woman one day._

 _My knowledge of Japanese and Chiba History._

 _My House Husbandry Skills._

I passed the questionnaire to my impromptu guidance counselor.

She scanned the contents, her frown growing more and more as she read the answers. By the end, she held the paper to the side with a disappointed hand on her face. I had already assumed that what I wrote did not conform to her standards.

"Hikigaya, can you please tell me what your cynical siscon tendencies are doing written on the psychometry test?"

"I'm not a siscon! I simply love my sister!" siscons don't exist, only brothers that don't love their sister enough!

"You didn't deny being cynical," she rebuked.

"I can't deny who I am, Sensei. I'm a realist." I'm self-aware like that. Self-aware people are the people whom I like the best, and I like myself the best, so there's really no contest on who's the number one in my life.

 _Komachi is your number one, though._

Ah right, I'm sorry for lying.

 _Hypocrite._

Hey, even I can have Freudian Slips in my mind!

Though having Freudian slips within your mind technically means that you're talking to someone and want have something hidden. But I'm talking to myself… oh shit. This doesn't bode well for my mental health. It was already under suspicion in the first place.

"Hikigaya!" A loud voice snapped me out of talking with myself, possibly curing me of my so-called mental illnesses in the process.

Maybe this is the elixir for mental illnesses, having someone snap you out of the process whenever it starts to happen. I should patent this ASAP and become rich so that I wouldn't need to find someone rich to marry.

"Oi, oi, are you even listening to me?"

"I'd listen to you if you weren't such an old record player."

I found myself being snapped into attention, literally. My head was suddenly under her arm, and I found my neck being strangled by her elbow. This was a move more commonly known in wrestling as a 'chokehold'.

I found myself suffocating.

"I-I'm listening, you crazy woman!"

"Good. So time for you to listen to my assessment of your current psychological needs," she started. I was still bound under her arm and despite the softness, I feel on my crown, I still would want to break free.

"You need help."

I'm pretty sure that if the whole world was crazy, the sanest person would need help being crazy, Sensei.

"I'm perfectly fine." I said.

Despite my jokes on myself about my mental health, I'm perfectly fine. You better not think otherwise, you five-year-olds. The mere fact that I have to spell out things for you to understand is already troublesome enough.

"No, you're not. You're too cynical, more so than my original assessment of you before being an anti-hero. Anti-heroes still have hope for society, you only have hope in your sister," she said.

Actually, anti-heroes are the characters that break free from the traditional hero archetype, as in those who would rather not be the cult-leader protagonist who uses others for his own purposes on an idea that is proven to not work. Hear that, Naruto? The Will of Fire is a tribalistic battle cry and your hopes for peace through love is absolute horseshit!

And my hopes are all in Komachi is a problem? She is the only pure being in this impure world! There's no better person to put one's hopes in than to her!

"Well, society is hopeless. It's a construct that a mass amount of humans built, and seeing that individual humans are hard enough to understand, what more would be a whole nation of them?" I replied, my head tilted to look at her straight in the eyes.

Any collective is ultimately bound by its own weight, and to carrying itself would be impossible as the number of people increases. The stronger the government, the more people it can carry.

Sensei just looked at me with widened eyes. Does she think this level of realism is something of mythical origins, and she saw what was the equivalent of seeing a Centaur straight out of the books? If that was the case, I feel pity for her when she meets people online.

"What happened to you?" she asked me. I could feel the trembling in her voice, the pity that she laced in it could be heard.

It was annoying, I didn't need pity.

I don't think that we're close enough to warrant me telling you about my personal life, Sensei.

"Nothing. I just see the world as it truly is. It's part of my personal skills, after all." **[4]**

I decided to joke a little, nothing much. It would help defuse the tension that was building up between us, and deflect any attempts at prodding for bits and pieces of my life, so either way, a win-win situation for me.

Her eyes lit up when she heard that. Her shoulders sagged and she left me to sit back on her seat. As soon as she did this, I could feel the air returning back to my lungs.

Oh sweet, sweet air, how I missed you!

"Contemporary anime doesn't do it for me, honestly. They lack the heart of older ones," she said. The fact that she used the words of many an old anime connoisseur proves to me that she is indeed an otaku. How old was she again? At least she looked like to be in her early twenties.

"The Fate anime proves that when I watched it. Honestly, why I even bother to watch anime in the first place is strictly because of friends. Manga is much, much better." The fact that she watched the anime in the first place astounds me. Why the hell would she do that? Not like the manga is any better though, making a hybrid of every single route into one.

Playing the game is much, much better than watching that poor excuse of an anime adaption or reading that shoddy manga adaption. **[5]**

"I played the Visual Novel." And I enjoyed it.

She slumped down her chair, her body suddenly becoming a hollow husk devoid of its exuberance before. Like her heart was taken from her, leaving behind a void that couldn't be filled, and a hunger that couldn't be sated. **[6]**

And was she hungry.

She was hungry for the spirit of OTAKU!

"Being a teacher doesn't give you enough time for such activities," her voice carried a hint of depression in it. I hope it wasn't contagious. Oh, the woes of adult life. How I fear it like someone fears the sun so far away.

"What do you teach anyway?" I asked her, hoping to change the flow of conversation.

"I'm the second year Modern Japanese Teacher. And also the Guidance Counselor. And the Career Assessment Professor. As you can see, I'm one of the more reliable teachers in the school!" She pointed a thumb at herself, pumping her chest up high.

They jiggled.

T-that's a lot of jobs.

"Why do you have so many jobs?" And why are they all lumped on you, I didn't say?

"As a young teacher, it is my duty to carry out the burdens of the more experienced teachers, in hopes of promoting a healthy, work-efficient environment," Sensei became even more depressed as the words left her mouth one by one. As if she was repeating someone else's words, it came out mechanically.

Don't ask me what happened to me, Sensei. Ask yourself what happened to _you_.

"Sounds like they dumped all the work on you just because they could," I tried comforting her with my words.

My words seem to have an opposite effect on her. She stood up, pumping her chest and fist up, and flipping her hair — woah that was long! — back. Her face was red with the blood rushing to her head.

Instead of having her calm down, I think my words only made her angry.

"I know right! Honestly, us young teachers get all the work while the older teachers get to drink wine and talk about how we young people are ruining the society they oh-so-carefully built!" She shouted.

As soon as she shouted, each one of the boomer-era patients in the hospital room looked at us. With disgust and anger that was present on their faces, I could almost read what they wanted to convey.

" _Damn, noisy young'uns, don't know how to respect their elders!"_

Yep, something like that.

"Your unconforming views are showing, Sensei," I admonished. With my eyes, I conveyed:

" _You're in an old people-hospital room, stop insulting old people right now."_

She nodded to me, sitting down. It seemed to have worked.

"It's no matter. You won't hold it against me, right? We're two peas in a pod," she said.

Nope, it didn't. I shouldn't have expected that from someone this childish to understand what I meant.

People aren't the same. No matter how understanding they seem to be.

You can't claim to be like someone if you have less than five percent of their traits. And to understand someone one hundred percent is basically impossible. Therefore, no one can be two peas in a pod.

"You don't even know me," I said.

She smiled at me.

It was a kind smile.

When I described her as motherly, it fitted once more.

"I already know enough about you," she said.

What?

What's with the overly sinister wording? It's something a stalker would say when first meeting the 'stalkee' and saying his reasons for being an eligible bachelor to the person being stalked is him _knowing enough about that person._

No matter which context you put it in, that's just as strange.

She stood up from her chair.

"Well, I'm leaving now, I've done what needs to be done!"

"What's with the chuuni-statement?" I couldn't help but quip.

"It's not chuuni! It's life imitating art!" With knees bent and feet stretched, she twirled around, moving in a picturesque ballet move known as a Plié.

By art, you mean shounen anime and manga?

"Don't you mean, art imitating life?"

"Smartass," she laughed.

Sensei, as the premier language and guidance counselor teacher of the so-called illustrious Sobu Highschool, don't you think that swearing to the students degrade their ability to be polite to one another for their future training as cogs in the machine?

A few moments passed. If one were to enter this room, they'd be met with only the sound of stifling laughter and the stiff voice of the News anchors from the television, several old men, a fashion model disguised as a teacher, and one miserable kid who wanted something else to do.

It's not his fault that he decided that being lazy wouldn't work in the long run. I'm using the term lazy as "a person who does nothing all day."

Situational laziness is inherently an impossible thing. The phrase, "He does nothing, he's lazy," is frankly incorrect in every sense as it completely ignores the fact that biological processes such as breathing and eating exist, and that the person may be doing work that he sees is better to do than earning money.

Thusly, there is no logical postulation that "lazy" could even exist in the first place. Though language is an artificial construct and thus, with the change in times, maybe even the pure words such as "lazy" would be changed irrevocably. In that case, I shall fight for the purity of language and non-evolution!

And another thing! I'm not lazy! You are! You people who'd rather change language than use it properly!

A memory played in my head, " _If I use this kanji, and twist the pronunciation a bit, Gagnifir_ —"

Nope! Not going there. Even if someone where to point a sword at me, or a dragon appeared before me, I'm not going to be like the selfless unrealistic main-characters in anime that spouts bullshit. Those days are long over.

Calm down, my heart.

"Don't you have anywhere else to go?" I asked. She was standing like a statue holding a smile at me as I had my rant in my head. A Mary of Magdalene, in my darkest days of cult worship, I have seen her face in numerous books I've read to further increase my power. And right now, Sensei looked as serene as her.

"Oh, I'm waiting for you to ask that actually. You looked like you were having fun so…" she trailed off, winking off innocently to the television that was currently showing another disaster happening. Thus, an omen was brought upon me.

"Please cut to the chase," I begged. The suspense is killing me. Omens are never good things.

She brought out a stack of papers and placed them on my desk along with a pencil.

"Your books will be arriving on mail later this afternoon, so solve what you can solve, before your mailman arrives and you can cheat your way through these."

Did I just receive a week's worth of homework?

...

The room's lighting lessened as the afternoon sun sank closer to the horizon. As the sun dropped, the temperature also dropped, which is logical. Thus the nurses saw fit to open the windows widely, to let in the fresh air in to be cool enough for brittle skin and failing lungs of the occupants.

The weather moved with the wind, and the curtains along with, bringing back a scene I saw yesterday. To deja vu, and with the memory prior to the accident another omen. I've been getting bad omens today.

Frequently.

I dreaded to find out who or what was coming for me.

But in more immediate news, the wind and the curtains seemed to have it out for me. I've been bothered more and more as the sun grew deep. As the day grew older.

I'd rather not have to make random connections in places where there are none, but I'm tempted to believe that there was a connection between these events that happened to me and the omens I'm receiving right now.

Realistically, I had no idea why the weather was consecutively windy for two days in a row, and I can't be bothered to learn the magicks of predicting the weather, so now I'm stuck with flapping curtains and noisy old men who decided to be friends this afternoon.

What was more, my homework laid unfinished by the table. I had finished some parts of it, in my 7-step plan to keep the workload the bare minimum before passing it to the otaku teacher who will assuredly come back. To make it seem like I was a hardworking student and not a lazy, however unrealistic such notions would be, bum, I completed several parts that I could.

Thus, when my teacher comes back, she will be surprised at my almost finished work!

The plan is foolproof!

There could be no fuck ups with this, no wrenches are thrown in the well-oiled machine that is the plan I made, no weird mishaps that would only happen in a slice of life anime that would prevent me from completing it.

It was perfect!

So as I laid there on my bed, curtains tickling my nose, due to me not having the nurses fix them unlike my older hospital mates, and waiting for sleep to enchant me with her spell...

As I stared up the ceiling to bore myself to sleep…

Papers ruffled, and a voice that puts all harmonic choirs to shame rang out to me.

"Hikigaya-kun, your assignment remains half-done."

That voice… smooth as silk, sophisticated and mature like finely aged wine... a night to remember. Familiarity brew within me as the cogs in my head shifted and stirred awake, trying to remember where I heard it from.

I searched for the stars on the ceiling and found none, and wondered where the song was coming from if the stars didn't sing them. Heavenly enough to match the stars themselves, perhaps even beat them, though I hear it unlike the exclusivity of the star songs.

Naturally, I went to my side, because getting close to stars is dangerous. I saw old men whose brains were too old not too look directly at close stars, look at one beside me. It may not radiate heat, but I don't like giving chances. Don't they know that they'll turn blind quicker if they look at them?

"And I assume that you ignore your problems to get away from them?" it sang to me once more.

I lost control of my lips and a retort released itself from my throat.

"It's not a problem if you don't make it one!" was my response. It came out automatically, like the practiced lines of a play.

"Why do you have such a disgusting mentality?" the heavenly voice was feminine and what followed was a soft sigh which could only come from one thing, a goddess.

What burdens the goddess carries, I don't know.

Regardless, I wonder what a goddess is doing talking to me, Hiki-freaky-kun, the butt end of all jokes regarding women. Perhaps to insult me, maybe? To tell me that my existence is a crime against all women, I wonder.

My curtains stopped flapping everywhere, and I could hear the sound of a zipper closing behind me.

Then she appeared in front of me.

Holding a piece of the curtains, her dainty hands flowed through the air, covering us in the curtains tinted orange. I saw her zip up the curtains closed, enclosing us, and my breathing room. My breath seemed to resound around me like the drums of war, keeping a steady rhythm to calm my rapidly beating heart.

Then, she gracefully turned on her feet to face me fully...

Sensei was a supermodel, that was a fact. But the person in front of me could be only described as a thing crafted by the gods themselves...

If Sensei's face was sculpted by a master mason, then hers was Hephaestus's grand project.

If Sensei's body was that of a supermodel, then hers was of Aphrodite's.

The two were husband and wife, and they brought together beauty out of this world.

The night before I thought her to be otherworldly, as the moon draped its light upon her form, while the curtains closed now danced to her whims. I realize now that no matter the time, she was always something so far out of reach. What was she, I wonder, how did she came to be, I wonder, and why does she come for me, I wondered.

The diminished sunlight brought a celestial luminescence to her translucent skin, so white that beings of mythology would grow green with envy.

Flawless skin, high cheekbones, cute nose and lips full and pink. Eyes sharp gleaming predator's glow, shining a bright blue, she strolled up to me with the exaggerated movements of a catwalk.

Papers entered my sight, and her lips curled to smirk.

"You have completed seventy-five percent of the work you received, what stops you from completing the rest?" Maybe because I have already a plan of attack? Not that I'm gonna tell you what it is. You seem to be the goody-two-shoes type, Margery-san. **[7]**

"Tell me what your 'plan of attack' is, please," she said to me, her eyes bright and wonderful. She crossed her arms, the blazer hugging her form as she did so, under her blue ribbon. It only emphasized her slender waist and modest...assets.

Her uniform seemed to be custom made for her and only her in mind. Like her clothes the night before.

"I don't have to tell you anything," I retorted, then I asked, "What are you doing here again?"

She brushed her long hair, her hand going through the strands as if it were strings of long, ebony silk. Two red ribbons bobbed above her shoulders. She took out books from behind her…

...Wait.

"I brought you the books you missed when our class distributed it," she smiled, yet somehow I felt it was condescending me, "I hope with this you may be able to finish the remain twenty-five percent of your work."

"I can finish it just fine without them," I said. Please don't make me finish these. If I did, that childish teacher would come with more work.

You're throwing wrenches into my well-oiled machinations!

"Your unfinished work is evidence against that, Hiki-lazy-kun." Oi, didn't I tell you that I can finish it? Don't just dismiss my words! Also, I had reached the conclusion that laziness is an artificial construct, so your words are automatically words of a sophist!

"Laziness is an artificial construct made by society," I flaunted my superior intellectual postulations, "since it, being a descriptor adjective, is an inherently subjective, it means that laziness is—"

She interrupted me.

"You're being delusional, Hiki-crazy-kun." Oi, stop with the insults already. Your character archetype is that of a polite oujo-sama, judging from the fact that your clothes seemed to be sewed by the greatest tailors under the sun.

"Oi, what's with all the insults?" I grumbled.

She smirked once more, and fear gripped my stomach. It was a look of domination. As if I was merchandise to be sold.

"Insulting is the way sergeants train their men to be better soldiers," she said, nonchalantly.

"I've never signed up to your army, woman"

"No, but I did promise to fix you."

"You're still on about that, Yukinoshita?"

"I keep my promises Hikigaya-kun, unlike your dastardly self that would turn an eye at a promise if it means furthering your desires."

"It's called not having an obligation to do anything. I don't practice that very often as I have none, at the moment."

"Having responsibilities — something to carry — validates your existence in the world and makes you happy," she said, and I couldn't help but notice the odd reverence in her tone. Were those words truly what she agreed with?

"Wouldn't it be the opposite, though? Responsibilities are a slippery slope. You could end up with more work than you want to, and you could even have work dumped on you, that has nothing to do with you in the first place." A certain voluptuous second-year teacher came into my mind at that moment. "Personal benefits aside, I don't think any type of responsibility, unless directly related to you and your well-being, could make you happy."

"'If your words of cynicism the likes of which Diogenes would even scoff at are to be believed, then the concept of family in society would have been thoroughly invalidated by your views," she clutched her forehead, "in any case, family is one reason why having more responsibilities that one, normally, wouldn't want to, would a good thing."

"That's just a motivator and primal instinct to provide for one's family," I said, getting heated up, "there is no grandstanding motivator, no higher psychological need, no value in even providing for your family more than giving in to instinct," when the final words left my mouth, I noticed a drop in temperature and the lack of sound.

If hell could freeze over with a glare from God, then it just managed to reach absolute zero with her. I felt frozen, caught like a deer in headlights. I wonder if it's my body giving in to the most obvious existence of someone greater than me. That their glares could stop my instinctual functions like breathing, if that were the cause, I loathe myself for giving into instinct.

I feel like a damn hypocrite.

"Y-you," a tremble in her voice, caused by rage and not by being beaten in an argument she had lost.

"You would invalidate the existences of your parents, just like that? The ones that painstakingly birthed you, and the ones that provided for you all your life, and would even assist you in your times of need as an adult?

"How ungrateful could you get? Do you even know the pains that they had to go through while you lived happily without comprehending the suffering they go through to ensure you have that happiness?

"Tell me, do your parents leave you for hours on end, coming back late at night — nearly collapsing in exhaustion — whilst still managing to smile for you and assure you that everything was alright?

"If you have experienced that, then I ask you once more, what do you think drives them? Who do you think you are to drive two free individuals to work for you?"

"I-err-what family is when not-er," Words bubbled from my mouth, yet not one of them comprehensible. I don't know why I'm trying to defend myself when logically, she was the one who is right.

Perhaps it's another one of my instincts, the one that tells me to fight for what I believe in, making me do this.

If that was the case, I was a bigger hypocrite than I thought.

"Do you want me to spell it out for you, en verbatim, of everything that your mouth fails to articulate, or your dry brain fails to comprehend?" she challenged me.

Comprehension was a hard word to be concrete meaning upon. If a person was given a test to see if they comprehended the subject matter, most assuredly would be positive.

That is false. They wouldn't understand anything and would interpret it in their own ways. Comprehension assumes that everyone has the same way of understanding things, which accounts not for their individuality, nor accounts for their ability. Which is why no one could get accurate readings of individual skill levels through self-assumption, and why everyone had to go through standardized testing.

I most assuredly comprehended her words. I knew that the moment she opened her mouth, she would say this:

"You are an obligation. A responsibility. And you are what makes them happy for it. To see that you stayed up late just to greet them with a smile when they returned home makes the suffering they have wrought to themselves worth it in the end."

Her voice was heat. Her body the flame as she articulated ever point she made with such passion. The wind blew hard and the curtains shriveled up around her, then reinvigorated, dancing once more to her whims like the night before. It was both admirable and scary at the same time.

"The Oujo-sama is right. Kids nowadays are ungrateful, but when they finally bring up children of their own, they'd understand what their parents feel. You better listen to her kid."

A comment said, reaching us under the thin veil of curtains surrounding us.

Like a moth to flame, or a shaman looking at fire, I saw my past.

...

" _Father, Mother! I tucked Komachi in while I waited for you to come back," a little boy, no older than five said._

 _He was smiling, a rather too bright smile if you ask me, when he saw his parents arrive on the doorstep of their home. O' sweet, summer child, you'd be disappointed by their chides. Don't expect much from them, for they will hurt you without regard. They would rather save their hides than save their child, my sweet, summer child._

" _Hachiman! What have we told you about staying up too late!" she, the mother, scolded. And there we go, tears brimmed his eyes, yet his mother still spoke. "You could get sick!"_

" _Your mother is right kiddo," the father agreed, and took the mother's side, "You better go to bed. Otherwise, you wouldn't have the energy to play with Komachi later."_

" _I want to play would you guys!" the child whined, "and I want to now!"_

 _Oh, what foolishness does the child have in his eyes, for him not to see that his parents were tired? Despite this, the father smiled. He knelt and said, "We'll play tomorrow if you wake up really early."_

" _Yay!"_

 _That night, the child dreamed of his family together, merry and joyful._

 _That morning, the child woke up to a house devoid of his parents._

 _When the evening arrived, the whole scene repeated itself. With one particular end, the father honest, and the mother too tired to care. He said, "We're tired, Hachiman, go to bed."_

 _The mother smiled and said, "We'll always be there for you."_

 _And they carried him to his bed._

…

"Do you understand now?" eyes of crystal blue invaded my personal space.

I definitely understand now, and I understand this for sure that she was just spouting platitudes to make herself feel self-righteous. Moral pragmatism at its finest.

"You don't know me at all. You don't have any right to tell me what I felt like, only I know myself. You're arrogant in thinking that you could understand and know a person just by looking at them," I said in great resolution.

"It's like talking to a rock…" she muttered, her fingers pressing against her temples.

"I feel the same." I replied.

An absolute moralist. A being who is clouded by ideals so much that they fail to see that each situation has nuance and would require different methods to fix.

Wordlessly, she opened the curtains. And I saw old men staring at my general direction in awe. Were they in awe of me, I'm not sure, but I knew for certain for certain that they were in awe of her.

As she gracefully took the chair Hiratsuka used to sit, she brought it closer to my bed — her supple, womanly hips just brushed up against the bed! — and sat down. My eyes trailed up her stockings and I saw a bright, beautiful bit of skin between her stockings and skirt.

The fabled Zettai Ryouiki! I didn't even know it was possible to pull it off that well!

After getting comfortable, she proceeded to bring the leg closest to me up over the other. The movement was so graceful and slow, it seemed almost seductive. Her legs were endless, and I was sure my eyes would pop out just to go further to reach the end.

Then, a voice.

"Onii-chan!"

I turned.

My beloved sister is here to save her Onii-chan from the crazy beautiful woman in front of him! And my mother too, I think.

If anything, she'd gush over that a woman is even talking to me, let alone sitting in close proximity to me.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you The Mighty Zingy, The Quotable Patella, and friend on discord, for critiquing, reviewing, revising and reworking the chapter. And praising Yukino. Praising Shizuka**

 **I'm looking at you Zingy, Patella.**

 **Questions reviewers give me.**

 **Yui dog dies. It serves a plot so don't think I did this because I hate dogs. When Komachi said that he saved the dog, she didn't know that it was saved; only hearing it from third party sources. Moreover, because she said that, Hachiman himself thinks that he saved the dog, but in reality, he didn't. Thus makes his relationship with Yui rocky.**

 **Hachiman isn't dead. He's just…something else.**

 **Yukino has amazingly sexy legs and if you don't think so you're wrong. – From Zingy**

 **Orimoto will appear. Later in the fic. She will make cameos and to tell more is spoilers.**


	8. 2-2

**Surprisingly, a Half-Truth is a Complete Lie 2-2**

There was once a time I saw my Mom protective and angry.

It was for Komachi, when she heard the news, when my little sister bawled on the dinner table. Her face was granite, stiff and unanimated, the shadows underneath her eyes flowing down on her face. It was a scary moment, utterly horrifying, like when you first watch a movie thinking it was merely a 'feel-good' movie, only for it to turn out to be Junji Ito's worse nightmares.

Even Komachi, with her 'emotional blockhead' powers activated, could feel the tension in the room as she slowly scooted away from our dearly terrifying Mom.

I do not claim to know what was going on her mind at the time, I can only imagine it was similar to what was going on in mine. That there was an inkling of instinct, the kind that only those of family would know, as it was something born from familiarity.

For so long as fifteen years, I had known my Mom, just as she had known me. During every step, every moment of my life she was there for me, even if her work held more importance than me. Yukinoshita's words rang true in my mind, I was a burden she wanted, an existence that validated her entire life and her legacy in this world.

If there was something that could immortalize you fully in this world, it's spreading your gene to a person. Writing, scientific development, even memetic fads could potentially immortalize you, but all they would see is the work you put in, rather than the person who made it.

With genetics and child-rearing, you could imbue yourself into the person you have given birth to. And then they would do the same with their offsprings. And then the offspring would do the same with his newly born offspring, also. So on, the cycle continues.

Thus, through the collective of all inputs flowing into them, tradition is born. Through that tradition, society is formed. Through that society, you are immortalized, as you have helped in shaping its destiny, forging its path to the future.

This was the penultimate legacy of Mankind.

It wasn't all that different from animals.

And my Mom, with her maternal instincts urging her to protect her cubs, imposed herself onto Yukinoshita, a stranger in every sense, to intimidate.

"Who are you?"

Posturing herself, she moved closer with a languid, predatory gait. A gesture to show that whatever threat Yukinoshita could supposedly show was laughable in her eyes. Her lilac business suit was buttoned and ironed sharply, its cloth form-fitted and new, in imitation of a class higher than her own.

To her credit, Yukinoshita stayed impassive. Perhaps she already knew all of these power-plays from her high-class parties, filled with oppressively fake people of the rich and powerful and famous.

Sunlight-flashed sky-blue eyes blinked and left my own dull grey. Her hair whipped through the air, though not like a leather whip, but rather a bundle of feathers as it brushed against my face, gently.

That delicate mixture of floral, citrus scents; rich, intoxicating and heady, which reminded me of cherry blossoms with vanilla undertones...

"Magnolia..." the words came out unconsciously.

 _Underneath an umbrella of pearly-white flowers… a little girl and a boy played, brother and sister... a smile plastered on her face as her onii-chan gave her a crown of flowers._

 _An angry grandfather…torn flowers and sobbing…_

 _My sister hugged me once I came to my room. The Edison Bulb that dangled above us flashed the flower petals underneath her feet. On her crown laid the stems of the flowers I picked._

 _I crouched down, scooping up the petals on my hand, in gentleness that I haven't known I possessed. Over her head my hands rested, then poured._

 _A shower of magnolia petals dancing above her hair fell down on her like white, pearl-like snowflakes._

During my middle school years, my darkest days, I can remember reading about its meaning:

Nobility, purity and the feminine side of life, these are what that flower symbolizes.

And what Yukinoshita seemed to be a personification of.

Once Mom and she were close, no more than a meter apart, you could feel the auras meshing and battling one another.

For what reason, I don't know.

"My name is Yukinoshita Yukino, pleased to meet you, Hikigaya-san," she spoke, her words like string coming out of her mouth like relaxed rivulets.

"Oh, it's my pleasure to meet you too, Yukinoshita-san," my mom said, her intonation and tone different from what she normally uses around family. She used her 'job voice' where she had to talk down clients that were too nosy for their own good.

There is one other time when I remember hearing her use that voice. During my elementary school days, there was a certain day of the week where the day ended at eleven o'clock in the afternoon. My Mom, who worked at that time, had her lunch in that period of time. To kill two birds with one stone, she picked me up at school and took me to her workplace.

" _Jozue-san, please refer to the garbage can with your proposal," my Mom's eyes glinted steel, "and place it there so our chief janitor can use it."_

 _Jozue-san, a pitiful fool, one who lacked the ability to read through lines, stood nonplussed. I wonder what was going on his mind when he heard that, but as his face slowly contorted into anger, my Mom swiftly said…_

" _And please use the exit over there once you are done." His expression shifted into that of surprise, as he stood motionless in shock, unable to comprehend her words for a few seconds._

 _"What are you gaping at me for? Didn't you understand what I said? Or are you that much of an imbecile that I have to dumb it down for you?" The insults struck down on him incessantly._

 _"Get out of my office! You are fired! This company doesn't need incapables like you!"_

 _As Jozue-san left, I saw my Mom hunch down on her hand, her glasses taken by two dexterous fingers as she rubbed down the ridge of her nose. I always wondered why she wore those, because she always did that, and always told me that it was because the glasses irritated her nose._

 _I know Mom's eyesight was as sharp as mine, and her glasses had lenses that only blocked blue light, to which I didn't know why, as blue was the color of the sky. But when she ticked Jozue-san off, only I noticed the subtle twitches in her eyes and the straining her facial muscles did. It was since that moment I had realized that she wore glasses not for herself, but for the people around her._

I blinked off my trip to memory lane.

"Please call me Saori-san, Yukino-san. Hikigaya-san is my husband, and the lump over there next to you," she smiled.

I gazed at them in utter surprise, my mouth agape in incredulity.

What?

"I shall heed your request, Saori-san," and like that, Yukinoshita smiled back, "Once again, I'm pleased to meet you."

What happened to the predating? Did people of the female gender have some sort of telepathy where they could communicate whatever thoughts they want to say? What is this sudden camaraderie between them?

"Well," my Mom started, "forgive me for being blunt, but I see no reason for a girl like you to be beside my Hachiman without any reason."

The air shifted once more. Once more I felt the tension returning. The air was water, filling my lungs with heaviness and my eyes with murkiness, plunging me into its depthness.

No, it wasn't that the tension was returning. Rather, it never left in the first place, and only when the two auras, the two wills, clashed once more, did it gain concretion.

"I came here to bring his books, as we are in the same class."

Yukinoshita answered, after a veil of deliberation clouded her face. I wouldn't have expected her to actually think of her answer, as she seemed to always have something to quip. But perhaps my Mom's bluntness was a hammer, shattering all forms of metaphorics and presupposition.

In any case, my Mom quickly followed, not letting up on her momentum.

"And why didn't they just send it to our house, to give it to him directly?"

"They found it prudent to just use me to send it to him," Yukinoshita once again answered after some careful moments of thought, though she seemed rather uncomfortable with the questioning, like being put on the spotlight so suddenly on stage where you had no lines to say.

I wonder what she could be thinking about with her answers. A lot of these could be answered with straight-shot honesty, so careful deliberation isn't much needed. Then again, who knows what goes on a mind of a modern aristocrat, they're probably so used to speaking in crypticism that they don't even know what they're talking about half the time.

"And why would they? Surely unless someone volunteers, they're going to just send it to the house of the people close to him," my Mom narrowed her eyes, her glasses once again showing the twitch and strain of her facial muscles, exacerbating her already intimidating visage.

"Stop dancing around the topic, Yukino-san."

Yukinoshita, to her credit, while not unfazed, was able to answer.

"That's…I volunteered."

Wait, what? Why'd you volunteer for me? Did I suddenly wake up in a parallel universe, where I was a female, had friends and was totally into me? **[8]**

What is this opposite world that I've landed myself in?

Mom looked at Yukinoshita with an amused sneer, not of the bad kind, but of a teacher who found a student who learned. She took off her glasses, letting out her eyes of cold steel for all to see, and see they did. If I had anything to say about the intensity of a Hikigaya's stare, I'd say that it's a bloodline limit passed down from Hikigaya to Hikigaya.

I glanced at the girl at my side, whose eyes were bloomed hyacinths.

Mom continued.

"There," she pointed her glasses at the girl beside me, "isn't being blunt better? The rush of excitement as you tell the truth? The honesty of your words contributing to making the world better making you feel ecstatic? Your heart pumping and your brain going haywire? Doesn't it make you feel that way?"

Mom shook her head.

"Honestly, if people were more honest with their feelings, most of the problems in the world would just be nightmares that people could move on."

"Is that so…" Yukinoshita trailed off.

"Look, underneath all of that subtleness is a wish someone has. Two parties hint and prod, they dance around the topic like a mating dance, and if they're successful, they get a compromise…" Mom paused, her brows furrowed in thought, a frown maring her face.

"…That's it, only a compromise."

Yukinoshita fell into deep thought, wrapping one arm around her waist and bringing the other to her chin. As if the floor had answers, her eyes roamed and her head tilted downwards, pondering on my mother's words.

"It's not dancing around the topic, it is merely etiquette," Yukinoshita refuted, finally finding an answer.

My Mom's fists clenched hard, her knuckles turning pallid as the blood halted on her palms. I knew inside of my mother's mind was a storm of ideas and concepts, all being reviewed and thrown away as useless, all of which coming from what Yukinoshita said. There was a lot of things that get her riled up, ranting and raving: this topic was one of those things.

"To hell with etiquette! To hell with long-winded speeches that barely say anything! To hell with pleasantries that don't amount to anything!" her voice was loud enough for God to hear.

"The greatest developments of man is when they are honest with their work, show their reasons in a logical manner, and be themselves. It's when people can say, 'This doesn't work, please revise it, or suspend it,' and not get any backlash that society develops faster."

Mom crossed her arms.

"Etiquette is more than just dancing around a topic, Saori-san," Yukinoshita started, holding the hem of her skirt.

"It is to give respect to the people who you are debating with and to show gratitude that they hear your words toto coelo, without interruption. Emotions can get obviously heated in a debate, therefore adhering to proper protocol could soothe the wooden furnace before it burns down. Until then, it is merely another way to get a topic across."

Mom guffawed.

"If I needed to give respect to the people I am debating with, then I'd do it with my intellect, rather than my words. Floundering about like they're five-year-olds who need to be taught — rather than giving upfront reasons and proposals — is more insulting to them than anything else," she said.

"Besides, if you built your furnace out of wood, maybe that's a sign you're not meant to be debating in the first place."

Hacked coughs from all around the room told me that there was more than Komachi and I as the audience. The old men were tuned in to the conversation that was raging just beside my bed. However, not even the threat of embarrassment under old men seemed to dissuade those two from speaking. If anything, they increased their volumes.

Speaking of Komachi, I whispered in her ear.

"Mom sure likes to talk about these things, doesn't she?"

Komachi looked at me, her eyes half-lidded and her smile betraying her intent.

"Mom's just assessing your potential partners, Onii-chan. It's a thing we girls do, as you guys also do. If you guys go outside and have a talk, and have a beer soon after, then we girls either debate on ethics and bait other girls into answering hard questions."

My eyes widened as soon as I heard that. Komachi still had her Cheshire grin stretched wide across her face. I couldn't tell if she was being honest on not, so I went far deep inside my memory for empirical data to ascertain her claims.

From what I could remember, most girls start off their conversations with, "I talked to…" or "You won't believe what…". At first, I assumed these as mindless gossips, hell-bent on making the people they gossip about live's as miserable as possible, but with this information…

…That explained a lot actually?

Those of the female gender have conversations about ethics and morality as frequently as possible, only disguised as inane conversation so the other party isn't clued in as to what they were being appraised for. This to us of the male gender — who think of their daily debates as mere inane chitter of women — would be surprised about this information if told directly.

From what I could tell with Komachi's perpetually widening grin, it seems that she knew that I was having a realization that could potentially change my life.

How did she know?

She smiled even wider.

Girls are more complicated than I expected!

Komachi's eyes flickered towards the two women beside my bed, specifically to my Mom, then looked at me back.

Was I supposed to watch my Mom?

As if sensing the question in my mind, Komachi nodded.

"So really, it's just plain honesty and facts strung up on words and made coherent to understand. And don't say that you can't be successful by just stating was once a President whose entire campaign was just him listing off his governmental theory in a calm manner, his speeches weren't rowdy or made headlines, they were just brutally honest."

"Saori-san, you're talking about the United States' President Coolidge, correct? His government was a financial success historically speaking…"

I zoned in on my parent's face, as it is the most obvious way to ascertain a person's mood and character to form a concrete thought on them. There, she smiled as she talked to Yukinoshita, her arms becoming more animated as they pointed out different topics that only the two would understand.

What caught me was the fact that she was grinning.

"What's going on, Komachi?" I asked my foremost expert in all things that is female.

If a grin could break a face, then hers just crossed that line. It was so unnerving. That, coupled with unfocused eyes, gave off conflicting energies from her, so much so that I wondered what was going on her mind.

"That, Onii-chan, is a successful marriage interview."

…

"I need to go to the bathroom," I called out, my voice however not reaching my Mom or the woman who visited me today.

They were so engrossed with topics that I couldn't bring myself to be interested in. Perhaps it was because that I felt like a third wheel in the room. Mom's eyes weren't as strained as they usually are, and Yukinoshita seemed to loosen up around her as well.

In ways I don't know, I felt a tingle in my gut. This feeling was when I first entered middle-school, when people started to get to know one another. I also wanted to talked to them, get along and have fun with them, and get acquainted with a sundry of characters.

That never happened. Instead, I was alone, shrouded my a cloud of mystery that no one bothered to blow away.

Though those days of me being a third wheel in the entire class will finally be over! My (belated) high school debut will happen, and it's going to be great!

Just as I was about to bend my body to grab my crutches, my dear sister had already lifted them up to me. I smiled at her in gratitude as I lifted myself off the bed using the railings. Blankets ruffled, and pillow suddenly gaining buoyancy, evidences that I was laying on this bed in the first place.

With the weight of my body being held by two sticks under my armpits, I slowly moved towards the exit of the room, making my form as diminishable as possible. My actions seemed to be redundant as no one seemed to have noticed me exit the glass door in the first place, as they were all too busy in their own conversation, reminding me that, yes, I was still the third wheel, even if this isn't at school.

Damn rich and successful riajuus!

Just as the door closed behind me, it opened. Out came my sister, who came out with a sickly sweet smile on her face, though it was more of a sneer than a smile.

I wonder why she wore something so nasty in her face. A frown wouldn't hurt, as they were straightforward in conveying emotions, but a smile is something that could hide many, many words beneath it. Which is why a lot of books always reference a smile, rather than a frown, when it comes to emotions that are vague.

I didn't like seeing that on her, as it reminded me of that strained smile she used to give me back then.

Knowing my sister though, if I don't establish the conversation as a serious one, I won't get a straight answer from her. Loquacious she may be, it was a double-edged blade that cuts at the limbs, rather than going for the killing blow. We could talk for hours on end, and nothing meaningful would be discussed.

"What's wrong, Komachi?" I asked.

She looked back at the glass-door, peering straight into it even though it was opaque. Her sneer morphed into a frown and when she looked at me, I knew that I shouldn't interrupt what she says.

"She's the reason you're in the hospital, Onii-chan," she said, her voice echoing displeasure, "Someone told me that she came out of the car that hit you."

I stood frozen, gaping at her in utter shock at the revelation. Emotions of all kinds bubbled deep within my body; my heart beating fast and my breath hitching.

...so even

This isn't something new. Since childhood — where puerile hatred began to condense themselves in the feeble minds of small children; starting from small acts of betrayal of trust washed away by the sands of time, yet kept in miniscule grudges inside one's heart — betrayal was the norm.

Favorite toys were borrowed and never returned.

Pens broken upon retrieval.

Friendships shattered by stupid, little words.

But earlier, when she spoke platitudes about responsibilities and obligations of parents, I was awestruck at her resoluteness. I could feel her steadfast determination to change this rotten world which made me think of her as a sincere, straightforward person.

Then Mom came, revealing her selfish intentions underlying beneath that beautiful, prim and proper facade. And just like that, my illusions of her were shattered cruelly. She wasn't pure in her intentions, nor as sincere in her ways, when my Mom interviewed her like a potential employee.

Let me put this into perspective.

Imagine desecrating a shrine and its occupants, exposing the acts of hedonism behind those paper-lined doors. That was the job she had to do everyday, peering inside people, looking at their gears to see what made them tick. This is what my Mom does, and she does this well.

No one is safe from her questioning.

Though, is it really impossible for honesty to flourish in our world? Do we really have to wear different faces, with different people we meet? Do we really need to do that to accomplish whatever goals we want to?

I wonder if I could keep being true to myself, or if I was even true to myself.

That said, there was still my imouto who was waiting for me to reply. Her statement was open-ended, something I should fill the gap of. How I should fill it, I don't know.

I could also just ignore Komachi and lumber myself to the bathroom. However, that would leave behind questions and grudges that could destroy her, a hatred in her heart that festers every time she sees Yukinoshita. Grudges are useless; that's what I believed in, and I don't want my little sister to hold into any.

Thus I was struck in a conundrum, whether to follow my heart, or my brain.

To be, or not to be the hypocrite which I despise.

"You can't blame her for that accident, Komachi. In fact, you should blame me instead for suddenly riding onto the road in an attempt to save some stupid dog. She was probably just as shocked as everyone else."

In the end, I followed my brain. Listening to my heart just heaped upon me failures after failures, and thus my brain served to protect me. Instincts don't matter when dealing with humans, they only served a function when dealing with wild animals.

"I know — I just — I thought I lost you, you know," she squeezed her eyes shut, in a futile attempt at reining in her tears streaking down her face.

"I-I just, I don't know — I don't know what I'd do- I just can't imagine my life without you Onii-chan!"

If words could move mountains, peaks and valleys, then the world around me turned flat. One emotion, a pure and sincere one, pervaded the reality around me. Goosebumps rose up from my skin, a tingling me, like an unfinished melody forever on its last, and climatic, note.

In the face of such blasé to her own self-showing, how could I not respond in kind?

"You'd probably be the same. You'd be sad for a while, but eventually, my death would come to pass, and you'd move on carrying my memory in your heart. Then, when you die, when mom and dad die, the people who'd remember what Hikigaya Hachiman did would fall nill," I said, doing the imagining for her.

When I said that, I felt a pang in my heart, like an arrow striking through my chest.

When I said that, I saw Komachi clutching her chest, right above her heart. I wonder if she felt the same pang… a cold hand touching you, trying to wrench your soul out… Death's hands caressing your heart.

Talks of your mortality do that.

"Stop being so pessimistic," she mumbled.

I'll give you some optimism then, imouto-chan.

"I'm lucky to be alive, the car that hit me must've weighed a lot. Still, I wonder if being hit by a fat man would be worse," I chuckled, rueful and fearful. I imagined a fat man naked streaking across the hallway just to hit me, and hit me it did.

Though it wasn't a fat man, but a small fist. I saw Komachi with her fist outstretched and another one ready to hit me once more. Her lips quivered, and her body shook. But what caught me was more expressive than both of those.

Where there was a dam blocking most of the water, when she widened her eyes angry at me, water was freed.

"Don't joke like that!"

I held my hands up to placate her.

"I'm not, I'm not… I'd rather not die. If I die, who'd take care of my cute little sister for me? I certainly can't trust mom and dad, who leave my little sister home alone for hours on end. Nor can I trust…well, I don't really have anyone to entrust you to," I smirked at the end. Her face brightened, and I saw the gears in her mind forming a retort.

"You don't have to worry for me, Onii-chan! I've been taking cooking lessons at school! I'm well on my way to independence, unlike you."

She laughed.

Low-blow, imouto-chan. How could you say this to your Onii-chan who had raised you for fourteen years!

I laughed as well.

"The point is, it's fine," I lumbered over to her. Once I reached her, I placed my hands on her shoulders and said, "What's done is done. No use in living in the past where you'd just get depressed from regrets, or thinking about the future where you'd fail to do anything in the present and regret it even more. _Carpe Diem_ , and all that."

Wiping away the streaks of tears that framed her face, I placed a hand on her head.

She smiled, this time without the sneer or the vaguity, and I was rewarded with sincerity.

…

I came back from the bathroom to find my sister talking to Yukinoshita.

"So Yukinoshita-san, how did you find Onii-chan's room?"

My sister asked the question that I and mom failed to ask. I failed because I was too busy being shocked by a girl jumping off the window coming in the next day to talk about responsibility; Mom because she only asked the _why_ and not the _how._ Though she might've known about it.

Thus Komachi was left to pick up the slack we failed to carry.

And, to be perfectly honest, I was kind of curious myself.

And I saw another thing that I thought I may never see in my lifetime.

Yukinoshita Yukino, who until now I thought had an ego so massive that she'd confront an Oni herself, bowed.

"The Yukinoshita Family is regretful that such an event transpired at the fault of our family. Thus, the least we could do is make his stay as comfortable as possible with no extra costs to your family," she said, mechanically.

Though she had all those flowery language to cover-up what she essentially meant, I could read between the lines to decipher the hidden message:

" _Don't tell anyone that this happened and we'll cover your expenses."_

She could speak in layers, too, huh? Should've expected that from a high-class girl with a custom-fit uniform that looked brand-new and made from pure fibers. The question is, how many layers is she wearing on herself?

"Doesn't matter, it's fine," I replied courteously, going the polite way while my family is in the room. Then, I paused. I glared straight into those blue pools, searching for any secrets hidden within their depths.

"We're grateful that you cared enough to show _responsibility_ ," I finished, keeping the sarcasm out of my tone for the most part. Though, I wasn't able to stop the stress on the word responsibility, perhaps because I couldn't help speaking out against hypocrisy.

She gave an uncomfortable smile, the kind that you give when a parent caught you doing something you weren't supposed to do.

Silence colored the room white, not even the sound of the television screen showing deaths of Chinese people in their homes could break it. The old men around the room chattered, in subdued voices, and couldn't break it either.

Thus, my sister cut through it. As she walked towards me, putting an arm on my shoulders and back, she said in her usual chirpy voice.

"Well, you seem like a fun person, Yukinoshita-san! I think Onii-chan here is very happy to have your company in this dingy hospital room."

"Speak for yourself," I said to her, bopping her head lightly. "I don't need anyone to be happy."

Komachi looked at me with teary eyes, and I couldn't help but amend my statements.

"I'd be happier if you were here, though."

"Ahem." Mom coughed. She gave me a smile that made me uncomfortable, though that may be because she was straining her facial muscles around her eyes. Whatever it may be, I wasn't going over the yellow lights.

"And you too, mom," I had yet another amendment. A few more and I'd have a constitution.

Mom turned her head to face the window beside my bed, the darkening skies a far cry from when they came here, and the artificial lights brightening her lightly make-uped face. In the sunbeams, her lips glistened as she spoke.

"Dusk is arriving, and I have to drop off Komachi at home."

"Don't you have to work soon?" I asked her. It was honestly surprising how much time she could be off from work. Then again, she is part of the higher management.

"I'd be going as soon as I eat dinner first. You can't tell people off in on empty stomach," she winked, patting her belly.

"And Yukino-san." _Yukino-san?_ "I'll drop you off back to your home, if you want."

"Thank you — Saori-san." Yukinoshita bowed.

When did they come on first-name basis? What went on while they were talking? Is this the power of CHA that was ruthlessly denied to me?

They stood up from my bed, walking towards me. Or rather the door behind me. I saw Komachi going behind me to open the door, while Mom and Yukinoshita walked out.

"Bai-bai," Komachi waved. Mom and Yukinoshita followed along with their goodbyes, though they were more court then Komachi's.

As the door closed, I saw a glimpse of yellow and white, then saw Yukinoshita glancing at it. As she left, her mouth moved, and this time, I couldn't decipher what she said. The door closed on me before I could see what was happening.

The noise of the TV and the old men chattering with one another once more came back to the void that I'd created to ignore them. Once more I was bombarded with inane questions like what they did, who they are, or how they lived. The replies were always so fantastical that I couldn't help but feel a little distrustful of them.

But perhaps that's because all the excitement and fantasy left my life, and I was left with sweet memories and bitter regrets. I can always spin a story that would be considered fantastical by any other people, that would be exaggerated and warped beyond belief, but as brutal honesty could be, it's also boring.

Scientific papers aren't being read like newspapers for that simple fact alone. The masses only cares for what they can imagine, and the more phantasmagoria there is, the better.

Though, both Yukinoshita and Mom seemed to find enjoyment out of it.

* * *

 _ **Omake apparently**_

" _This company has no place for premature ejaculating limp dicked males like you. I Saori H Britannia commands you, kill yourself this instant!"_

 _His eyes widened in fervor._

" _Gladly your highness!"_

 _He let out a surprisingly girly scream while taking his MP 412 REX out and shot himself in his head._

" _For the Momland!" were his last words before he died._

 _"Fucking communists," she spat, clearing his body, as the mystical red sigil flashed in her eyes, indicating the usage of geass._

" _MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she broke into hysterical laughter."I can win! I can WIN! Now, I can finally destroy the accursed Yukinoshitas! Hachiman will be mine forever!"_

" _Mom I can hear you quite clearly you know," I deadpanned._

" _Urk!"_

 **Omake by The Quotable Patella, someone who spots grammar mistakes better than Grammarly.**

* * *

 **AN: Anyhow, school's started, expect slower updates under 10k words a week.**

 **Regarding the sudden bout of drama:**

 **This was pretty much plot and character development scene, no fluff other than some random bits.**

 **It's not that I don't want any fluff; it's just that this chapter, Chapter 2, lends itself more to the plot than fluff. And I didn't want any emotional dissonance within the chapters to ruin them, so yeah. This particular part lends itself more to character development too, which is why it seems heavier—or not, I'm not a good writer to make someone feel emotional while reading what I wrote.**

 **Basically, this part boils down to this:**

 **Komachi is suspicious of Yukinoshita, and Hachi-mom, or Saori, likes her. Hachiman is also starting to be suspicious of Yukinoshita, on account of her, while technically not lying, hiding certain bits of information from him, which reason is mentioned in the Yukinterlude.**

 **Yukino is just overwhelmed by the strong characters in the Hikigaya family. Of course, what she felt during that time would be in the Yukinterlude 02.**

 **And as for the OC that I introduced, she comes in the next chapter, and then the GBA starts and will end when Hachiman gets out of the hospital. So, to my plans, there are 10 parts written for Chapter 2.**

 **My justification for this is that GBA is a very, very important arc for the future overarching plot as it affects a lot of things. That and I just want to expand the world a bit, y'know? There are a lot of new places and characters that will be introduced in the later chapters, though it wouldn't be OC-centric or anything like that. So OC haters please don't leave my fic as soon as you read the AN.**

 **Saying any more would be spoilers; only my beta knows where the plot will go.**

 **Questions:**

 _ **You wrote Yukinoshita in 2-1 saying "our class" to Hachiman. Are they going to be classmates?**_

 **Yes, they are. Which is why I left it there. I've also run the plot several times to my betas, and the parts too, so plot holes and other things are found by them. Though, if you can, please tell us a plot hole you find.**

 **Thanks again to The Mighty Zingy and The Quotable Patella for betaing.**


	9. 2-3

**Surprisingly, a Half-Truth is a Complete Lie 2-3**

Quite a few hours had passed since Komachi and Mom left, along with Yukinoshita. Silence ensued once more as I struggled to think of a solution on how to spend the remaining hours.

Naturally, I found myself drawn to the TV like a moth to the flame, watching, as each inane newscaster kept rambling on and on about accidents, politics, economy and money what not. It was mostly about money, though.

Money moves the world after all. Accidents? How much can one pay for the damages. Politics? How much money is lining the pockets of politicians. Economy? Well, it speaks for itself.

The most shocking news is when you could feel an incident happening around you. And obviously the movement of money is a universal thing felt by all. In fact, the TV was showing something related to money right now.

" _According to reports, the reckless drivers' actions have caused several million yen in damages…"_

Huh.

There was something about that that gives me a tingling feeling in the back of my head, as if a memory was digging its way to the front of my mind.

It wasn't anything new, as most people have these flashbacks to the past thing where you can see the things that they regret. Usually these things happen when the sun sets, when darkness creeps over the vaulting blue heaven.

At night, right before you sleep, your mind reminisces of actions you did in the past. It could be good, it could be bad, it could be anything; naturally, mine were mostly filled with bad ones.

 _An ebony car, rushing through the road._

Leaning down on my pillow more, making myself comfortable, I gazed towards the ceiling.

A plethora of fluorescent lights were lit, beckoning the lucidity of the silverlined walls and floors. Though they weren't eye-searingly bright, as no one wanted being bombarded by white all the time, but more subdued. What's more, no one wanted bright lights while they slept.

Even as the television kept streaming in the background continuously, everyone were fast asleep. Everyone except me, though.

There is a phenomena common to all house-movers or people who stay in one place for a long period of time.

As we get used to our new surroundings, our senses compensate. To me, the once throat-scratching scent of antiseptic had become a mild, if not slightly metallic smell wafting in the air, invisible.

About two and half days passed since I have been admitted here. Technically speaking, I should have have gotten used to this place by now. Yet, why does everything feel so constricted, so suffocating?

I had no idea why, but this was simply unbearable to be subjected to, for hours and hours, in addition to the abject boredom.

All of a sudden, the fabric beneath my head became cold, colder than it should normally be. An uncanny wetness brushed the back of my fingers as I ran them through my hair.

"Haa, I wonder where that came from," I muttered to myself, shifting my head slightly only to find the same dampness touching my cheeks.

My pillow was wet with something.

With the constant coldness prickling at the back my head, I knew it'd be a struggle to get myself ensnared by the sleep once more. Sitting up, as the blankets that covered me fell to my lap, I caressed its soft, threaded textures, my mind wandering aimlessly. I watched as sweat meandered down the ridge of my nose and on to the blanket.

I was completely and utterly without thoughts. That's right, no thoughts. I was in the realm of transcendental zen, the buddhist state of approaching nirvana. Even when I felt sweat dripping down back, I reckoned it as nirvana being extremely hot, like a tropical paradise or some sort.

Heh. You'd reckon it'd be cooler? In fact I do too, and I'm disappointed at you right now, Buddha!

As my mind roamed, my eyes wandered as well. The television was flickering, scene-by-scene of different disasters and trivial tragedies, all varying in their scope and magnitude, all affecting lives and families.

The vision flickered, only to be enveloped by a horridly familiar scene.

 _Thick smoke rushing upwards from the hood of the car. An ebony black car and a bicycle that was broken beyond salvage._

" _This is the site of the wreckage."_

I gulped.

 _A memory of pain and haze…_

My mind was emptier than a beggar's wallet, filled with worthless knick-knacks of past memories. My vision swam through the sea of images, submerged beneath the happiness, sadness and all the emotions in between.

Just what in the world had caused this recent dives deep into my memory; or rather, why did this begin to occur only since these past few days?

Every single time someone says something or something happens, I seem to suddenly get beleaguered by those old memories.

Now, as a reforming chuuni, my past is always painful, thus I don't want to relive it. The future bothers me a lot too, so I don't want to think about it unless we do those 'What I look like in ten years' kind of essay. Ergo, present is the most favorable timeline for me.

But...this felt like I've gone through several painful flashbacks within a span of few minutes! What the hell!

 _A car crash… pain and haze upon me… unbearable heat coursing through my body… a pair of sapphire gems twinkling in the sunlight gazing down on me…_

 _Darkness._

The slow snores of the air conditioner as it pumped out cooled air into the room brought me out of the daze. Even the table fans that each of the patients within the room have next to their beds blew hard, mine at the hardest, yet it did nothing to alleviate the sweat I was drowned in.

A sudden daunting chill coursed through my full body.

 _Black...limousine like car… its face like an angry demon bearing down on me…_

My head throbbed in pain, heart thundering inside my chest, as if it was cut off from the veins and arteries, yet still beating, flapping desperately like a fish out of the water. My chest felt constricted and my breathing became shallow.

I clutched the sheets, coughing and hacking, breathing became excruciating. Bile rose from the depths of my stomach, searing my already irritated throat.

What the hell was this? What's this sudden onslaught of trauma! I shouldn't have gotten this!

Was it due to the television showing a car crash similar to one I experienced beforehand?

But, I've seen several car crashes in the TV before, and never in my life had I experienced this! It was as if an invisible giant hands were tearing my body apart from insides.

 _The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain._

 _ **The pain.**_

Pain engulfed my entire body, searing and boiling from the inside; I couldn't help but want to scream for help, however, the only thing that came out was-

"Shhh… son, it's alright,"

...a soft, angelic voice.

My vision restored slowly, and the first thing I could see was a white lab coat that glided up, with small ripple-like hills and valleys; all the way up, where it parted from pure white into a subdued pinkish undertones.

Looking up, I saw the smiling visage of a man hidden behind his glasses. The thick rims framed the sides of his face and emphasized his brow, though it made him look kinder.

With his palm gently rubbing my back, and another on my chest where my hand was clutched over my heart, he said in his smooth, baritone voice.

"That was a real shocker, wasn't it."

I looked up to his kind green eyes, with a forced smile that reached no miles near my eyes.

I was anxious.

How is he going to react to me? They say that smile is the human's most powerful weapon, and I've accidently shown the doctor my own.

I'd be lucky if they'd find me a new doctor.

However, his tranquil green eyes, warm and kind, like a mother's gaze towards her newly born child, they told me otherwise. His golden hair fell tousled around his head, the light and shadow giving an illusion of a halo, as if he was an angel to save me from death.

His features were certainly seraphic. An angelic face - I wonder if he worked as the part-time model for the hospital, as part of their PR campaigns. It certainly looked as if it was.

Sleek jaws adorned with thin cherry red lips, lusher than a woman's fingernails painted over.

Was it the moisturizer? Wherever he got that brand of lip balm, I want it.

His lower face would've been envy of men and women alike, had it not been for his enchanting forest green eyes that people would instantly get lost into. His facial shape was just right, with not too sharp an incline, nor did this ears protrude out like an elephant. A small mark on the bottom of his lips completed the face in front of me.

If I weren't heterosexual, I'd have fallen for him, heads over heels.

Luckily, he's not one of those mythical traps, where a woman's face and body is grafted onto a man. Thank god, he looks masculine.

"Are you feeling alright, son?" he asked, concerned.

When he smiled, I noticed for the first time that it wasn't a courtesy smile that people usually use. Nor his smile was nauseatingly wide like that of a certain orange headbanded shonen protagonist.

It was a heartfelt smile that would only come out of a truly concerned person.

I felt small, as if there was Goliath standing before me and I wasn't David. Very inadequate.

I didn't want to answer a stranger though, no matter how angelic they look like.

"Who are you?" I asked. I've breached manners here, since I'm supposed to introduce myself before asking for someone's name, but I couldn't give a single iota of damn.

His face blanked. All traces of his serene demeanour was gone. Maybe I shouldn't have breached protocol, but what's done is done and having no other choice, I sat calmly, awaiting his response.

When the color of expression filled his face once more, I saw his lips open before he uttered.

"Oh…" he started, rubbing his neck, "it seems that we haven't been introduced to each other yet, my bad. Don't bother introducing yourself too, Hikigaya-kun, I already know your name."

He coughed awkwardly trying to regain his aura of serenity.

"Ehem—so uh, I'm Dr. Miura Yume. I have been assigned as your doctor and have been tasked with overseeing your recovery progress. "

Miura Yume, huh? What a name you have there, Miura-san. Sounds like a dream name.

Still, I couldn't help but want to verify something. If he was my doctor, then surely he'd know who put me in the hospital right?

"Who was the one who put me in this hospital?"

When I asked, I felt like I was being tautological. I already knew the answer but I still wanted confirmation, even though it's been validated by three people.

"That was Yukinoshita Mikoto. Once she heard of the car crash she immediately called our hospital and put you under our care, she feels deeply responsible for such a tragedy occurring," answered the doctor as if he were relaying some other's words.

He had a pitying smile on his face, the kind where one would give when trying to kiss up to someone. It was disgusting. I didn't want to see it given to me — I wasn't someone to be kissed up to.

I turned away from him, looking at anywhere else but the doctor and his disgusting smile.

"I see, that makes sense," I said.

My dismissive tone and the way I put an abrupt end to the conversation made the atmosphere awkward. I didn't want to start up a conversation again and just wanted to rest. However it seems that the doctor couldn't get the hint. The silence felt stifling.

I took a peek at him.

Only to find him immersed in the television, his face neutral. When I saw the television myself, I wasn't surprised at the news that showed. It was another tragedy; and the scene before me showed the people involved in tears, with their voices cracking, as if they were speaking from an old radio.

There I saw it, the true face of a person who's probably witnessed more of the tragedies firsthand than I had even seen on TV. It was the face of someone who worked trying to save lives, as he was a doctor, and I has taken aback by the honesty written on it.

" _Life goes on and on… even in death."_

"The news is teeming with all these accidents…"

He mumbled, the words were voicing a realization, yet also asking a question. I wondered if he spoke to himself or if it was directed to me. I didn't give any hints that I was watching him. Did he have eyes on the back of his head or something?

His tone set me at ease though, and compelled me to answer.

"Yeah…"

"I'm surprised that not much as been done about them, aren't you?"

"Not really, I don't pay much attention to the news, even though it's the only thing that's on the television." I waved my hand nowhere, as if trying to hold a concept or idea too big to balance in the palm of my hand.

He glanced off to the side, yet I felt that his gaze never truly left me. On the surface, it was just a simple question, however, the way he posed it, I couldn't decipher what he actually wanted to say.

Even after a few heartbeats of silence, neither of us spoke a word, with the unspoken thoughts still lingering in the air.

Finally, I heard a sigh. Not an exhausted one. It was more of a sigh of anticipation and broken expectation, which was natural considering that I basically ignored his inquisitive look.

"Well, it should be… see these old men?" he asked, waving his hand around the air in a circular motion.

I nodded.

"They're the people who built this country, it would be fair if they wanted to keep track of its progress, and right now, the situation is alarming," said the doctor, with a tint of worry mixed in his, what I assume, constantly pleasant voice in the end.

I wonder.

"How dire is the situation anyway?"

"There's been unexplained appearances of so-called ghosts and demons lately, according to several eyewitnesses. Though most of the psychiatric department think that it's probably just shock or hallucination that caused them to see things" He chuckled, a bit of derision seeping in his tone, as if someone had told him a bad joke.

"The police are trying to figure out whether this outbreak of hallucinogens in the air, as hypothesized, was true or not. So far, it had just been random accidents, unexplained deaths and disappearances…"

He kept trailing off.

I gazed at him contemplatively. I wasn't sure whether he wanted a sign of confirmation from me, or if he just was unsure of what to say next. Given the topic, it might be uncomfortable or slightly confusing to talk about without first gathering your thoughts. I'm just glad that he isn't one of those types of people who hesitate in the middle of their sentences to have their thoughts coherent.

"Sounds dangerous," I quipped. To be frank, I didn't think it was dangerous, or rather, I didn't buy into the whole psychiatric drugs in the air causing mental breaks, that would only interest a collector or fairy tales. But the doctor seemed to be fearful of it though, given the grave tone in his voice, and the gravity that his speech gained.

"It should be…" he started, glancing at the TV.

It showed a mob of protestors rallying in front of the city hall, carrying placards that said something along the lines of: "Do something already or we won't vote for you in the coming elections." and variants thereof.

Ah, classic democracy.

"The citizens of Chiba are split. Some are petitioning the government to enforce curfews while a lot of the businesses and office-workers are against it. Things are little strained right now," he finished.

Curfews and citizens forming into diametrically opposed factions? Mass protest and social strain? I didn't think it would be _that_ bad. Then again, when was the last time I opened a newspaper or news site? Or better yet, when was the last time I even _came out of my house?_

I was so out of the loop.

Wait, with all this social chaos, there are bound to be troublemakers, vagrants and vultures all swooping in to feast on the panicked people, the straining police and law enforcement.

Then… Komachi.

I snapped my head in realization.

Just...

"How long has it been going on?"

I dreaded the answer; it could've gone for longer than three weeks or just started after I got out of the house, neither of which are better than the other.

"Since February… the first recorded case was a woman seemingly spirited away into the night, as told by her boyfriend who was walking her home from the park. It only got worse from there," he answered.

I sighed. More in expectation than anything else. It was bad, but it's also an answer nonetheless.

Come to think of it, I did see Komachi more often in the house than not. It was probably an order from Mom, since Dad's too spineless to go against his daughter-con tendencies. I did enjoy the increased time, though.

Thanks Mom!

"I see," I said, with nothing more to say. I got all the relevant information I wanted, and I frankly can't be bothered continuing this discussion with my largely unformed and vague opinions. It'd be probably useless too, given that the doctor probably heard it from someone else.

I blew a stray lock of hair dangling in front of my eye. I should probably cut it, it's been a while and it's grown too long for the oncoming heat this spring and summer seasons would bring.

The doctor inhaled, loudly, catching my attention. He cast a gaze on me, a tired one, probably sick of something. I knew what was coming; Komachi does this whenever she's annoyed or displeased: he's about to vent his frustrations.

"I, personally, have a wife and daughter to take care of, and seeing that these things happen when people are vulnerable and in the middle of the night, I would like it for there to be curfews. But at the same time, hospital work has no set time, and I would not deprive a patient of potential life saving moments because of my fear," he ranted, not even stopping for a second to breathe. When he did stop, he closed his eyes, took his thickly-rimmed glasses away, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

I didn't know what to make of that. I understood what he said, but at the same time, couldn't even give a proper reply to him. As I clutched the fabric of my sheets, I didn't even realize that my mouth seemed to be moving on his own. When I did, I had already asked the question.

"Wouldn't having your loved ones safe be more important to you?"

He slumped, giving me a despondent look.

"Sometimes, to make society work, one has to sacrifice certain things, Hikigaya-kun."

For the second time, I said.

"I see…"

He stood up, looking at the analog clock hanging overhead. Pulling both of his arms in front of him, he stretched, shaking his hands afterwards. He walked towards the door, and just as he was about to open it, he spoke once more.

"It was nice talking to you, Hikigaya-kun. I hope that we meet more often to talk like this," he smiled. It wasn't a polite 'you're my patient so I have to do this after I talk to you' nor is it a business type of smile. For once, it seemed like a regular old smile, the kind that he'd give to a friend.

I didn't know what I did to deserve an action. Because no matter what, people reserve their truest smiles, and give half-hearted or empty ones instead, as if putting on a mask to bear in the worldly stage play everyone acted in — even if they didn't know what role they played.

A smile is one's best weapon in this world.

There was no reason for me to receive it.

"Yeah, bye."

In the end, I waved, leaning down but not quite, only feeling the barest hints of the pillow behind my back.

"And you might want to check out the indoor-outdoor garden we have, it's bound relax your addled mind," mentioning this, the door swung around for a moment, before closing.

"Sure."

By the time I voiced my reply, there was no one to hear it.

* * *

The clock struck midnight, evident by the ghastly tintinnabulation of bells, the entire setting straight out of an eerie premise.

However, I couldn't be bothered about it as I found myself extremely famished. In that mindset, I set out for the cafeteria, still in my crutches. That feeling of your entire body weight constantly thrusted upon your armpits, as your leg stays immobile is one of the most annoying and uncomfortable experiences in the world.

People would vehemently disagree with that, claiming that there are probably more uncomfortable to downright excruciating things than that; like being in a full body cast instead of a half body one, or recovering from getting your thumb removed and having to work with a really useless hand for the rest of your life.

I give zero fucks to those contrarians though.

My opinions are valuable to me and myself only. I don't care whether people accept them or not, nor do I give a damn about conforming to the society. To me, communication is just another fruitless battle to be fought, and thus by refusing to fight, you avoid meaningless bloodshed, or in this case, drama.

Take Yukinoshita for example, she seems to thrive in the battlefield that is communication with different people. Yet she talks about using politeness as a way to subvert the oncoming blow. Heh, like giving someone a pillow would stop a bullet!

I felt a smile tug the edges of my lips.

I opened the door to the cafeteria hall which was thankfully devoid of people. The counters were also empty, however, they are nowhere related my final destination aka this fridge at the other end of the room that has all the microwavable leftover treasures for me to ransack...err...explore!

Opening the fridge, I was greeted with orderly arranged bentoes of vivid colours and various tupperwares packed with sundry meals. Everything seemed to be untouched, though, perhaps that'd change when the doctors and nurses finally get hungry.

Grabbing the tupperware closest to the front, which was filled with rich golden brown katsudon curry, I turned towards the microwave oven, put the box inside and set it to heat for one minute. There I waited, leaning down on my crutch as the tupperware spun around, bathed in the orange glow of the microwave light.

3…

2…

1—

Before it reached zero, I opened the microwave. I felt my smile grow. I don't know why I do this, but whenever I do, it felt satisfying.

Just as I was about to approach an empty table, a sudden spasm of intense pain struck me, it was as if unbridled lighting coursed through my entire body. Everything was hazy, the very act of breathing felt excruciating. My head started throbbing violently, as if it was being crimped under gigantic fingers. It lasted for a moment before I began to convulse uncontrollably.

The crutches beneath me slipped, and I found myself falling into the biting icy white floors.

My grip loosened consequently as the tupperware fell onto the floor with a resonating thud, the golden brown curry spreading slowly, marring the white marble floor and scalding my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to breath. I tasted curry, and something dry and papery.

* * *

When the pain subsided for a bit and I regained my faculties, I left the cafeteria for indoor-outdoor gardens, heeding the advice of the doctor.

I certainly needed to relax. Seeing that I wasn't going to have any sleep at all, the pillows and the covers were probably still drenched in my sweat too, it was the only choice.

That clamping feeling in my chest didn't subside completely though. It was subdued, for the most part, not strong enough that I felt a splitting headache every time I moved. Only minor ones.

The glass door felt familiar to me, well, familiar as the memory was recent. I opened it as rugged covering of opaque filler tickled my fingers. I was greeted by the same white hallways with the columns of carefully arranged bonsai plants along the sideways with the wooden benches situated near the rooms themselves, probably for visitors and outpatients.

Plants potted in cluttered the sides and benches on areas near the rooms situated themselves, waiting for a person to sit on them.

The familiarity grew even stronger.

The lights were slightly dimmed down for the night, so as to not disturb the patients in the rooms. As I walked, or lumbered, through the halls with my crutches, watching the same crisscrossing patterns of the flooring, I noticed an oddity in front of me. I wonder if it was the haze that my mind is currently in, but when I saw it wave, I knew it wasn't the case.

At this hour, from personal experience with hospitals, no one should be around in the hallways of the resting rooms other than half-asleep nurses and doctors weighed down from the stress.

There was no one of that sort around. But that wasn't the odd part. The odd part was—

"Hiya! Onii-tan. You look like you're in a bit of a curry, there."

—that kid. She was still here, wearing that white gown, a magnolia flower adorning her ear.

She called me 'Onii-tan' and I'm still not sure whether or not I allowed her to call me that. So, because she called me something without my explicit permission, I very humbly requested of her to stop.

"Don't call me that."

The sensation stopped.

* * *

Underneath the starless sky, though not moonless, was me sitting down on a bench, relaxing, while the seriously old victorian lamp light flickered behind me. It was flickering a lot, so much so, that I was getting dizzy again from looking at the sudden changes in brightness. I swear, did they take an actual Victorian-era lamppost and decided that with a little spit and shine, it'll be all good?

Not even closing my eyes helped as the light somehow managed to be strong enough just to pierce through my eyelids every time it brightened up.

Butterflies fluttered in the air around me.

"So like, I made a paper plane fly through the kitchens," the kid spoke with wide eyes, her hands raised up in the air as if she's reciting a shamanistic ritual. "It went fwoom! And straight through the curry."

"What?" I gave her a bewildering stare.

My face asked a question, and her face had the answer. She smiled really widely, though her eyes weren't on mine, and her ears were red. All the signals of a criminal caught orange-handed.

Get it? Cause orange is the color of curry and she had the paper in…

Oh!

What a stupid joke. Even I could feel the cringe, and I made it!

I tasted the roof of my mouth, feeling the certain dryness when it comes to eating paper. Of course, the paper wasn't really on the roof of my mouth, but rather the ghost of the past revealed itself to me in that moment of realization.

Damn it!

I raised an arm that was covered in curry stains. I was reminded of my horrid state of dress. Hell, I probably smelled like curry too. Though, I wondered if this was enough to get her to stop bugging me. Probably not, because she seems to enjoy watching people suffer.

"So, what are you doing drenched in curry?"

What a sadist! Stop reminding me of my suffering Maria Naruse! **[9]**

"Having a curry bath." Heh, props to anyone who gets this pun.

"In clothes?"

"Yes, because that's the fad now."

"Didn't know you were into fads, onii-tan. You strike me more as a person who wants to forge his own path, on a road less taken."

A road less taken, huh.

I remember reading that poem for third-year Japanese in middle school. As graduating middle schoolers, we were pressured into choosing our careers, to the point where entire classes were about jobs, life and how to fit yourself into society in society.

I hated that class.

"Well, of course. I do want to pioneer house husbandry, after all. But stop being so dramatic! And if I remember correctly, that poem ends with the person finding his path looping back to the path everyone takes."

That class did let me find my future vocation, and I stuck by it ever since.

"Hmmm, speaking of forging your own paths, isn't it scary?"

"Hmmm? Well, there's a poem on it actually. Written by a Korean poet. It talks about—"

She interrupted me by raising a hand and started reciting.

" _Let me have no shame  
under heaven, 'til I die._

Even wind in the leaves  
pained my soul.

With a heart that sings of stars  
I just love all dying things.

And I must walk the path  
given to me.

Tonight also,  
the wind sweeps over the stars."

She finished the recital as her intent eyes stared up at the starless sky.

"The wind sweeps over the stars, huh. You think that's why there's none left in the sky?"

"No that's more related to the fact that we live in a large city and the light pollution blots out the light coming from space."

"Onii-tan that was too logical, I like my theory better!"

I closed my eyes and relaxed, basking under the warm glow of lamplight.

All of the sudden, the lamp shut off. I was surrounded in Stygian blackness. I opened my eyes slowly only to be met with the sight of a little girl in the white dress laying down on the grass in front of me. Her arms were outstretched on either side, and each blade of grass around her gave off the illusion of holding her up. Butterflies fluttered around her, as if she were a flower.

At that moment, the clouds rippled open, like curtains of a stage, and the queen of the night shone in her majestic glory. The surroundings were bathed in moonlight, and in her white dress, shimmering in the nightlight, the little girl looked ethereal, as if a wisp that would disappear with the wind.

* * *

 **My dear people who happen to stumble on this fanfic, I give you an update that took me too long to make. I'm sorry.**

 **Thanks to both The Mighty Zingy and The Quotable Patella, you guys really deserve the 'the' and the adjectives in your name. Kek.**


	10. 2-4

**Surprisingly, a Half-Truth is a Complete Lie 2-4**

It's now Wednesday, meaning three days have passed since my unexpected lip-to-headlight with that ebony black limousine. Within those three days, Yukinoshita had visited everyday without fail, even on that very night of the accident.

As a normal teen who is on the cusp of his youth, this situation should've been a dream come true. Yukinoshita is outrageously beautiful, and she's visiting a rather generic person like me. This was the stuff most self-insert generic mangas were made of to sell to the lowest common denominator. In fact, I could name a bunch of people from my middle school, my dearest "friends" who later abandoned me once it got too tough for them — jackasses, all of them — who'd kill me for saying this:

It's not all that it's made out to be.

"Have you showered, Hikigaya-kun? Your stench is appalling."

Despite her stunning beauty, did I forget to say that her tongue is quite vicious?

I sighed, and buried my face in a pillow.

* * *

A few hours later, I got up slowly to find Yukinoshita flipping through another page in her book. A bright light shone through the windows. The clock ticked, the turn of another second in the eternal movement of time, as I laid back down on the bed. Stretching my arms out, squinting as the yellow sunlight slipped in between my fingers.

Has this become my new daily routine?

To sit here and just wait till the end of the day to get to sleep like a retired employee?

This is depressing. At least give me some entertainment to ride out the boredom!

No, wait…

The Rom-Com Gods that control my life won't win this time, I know their plot. I can see with my discerning eye what they're planning to do! They want me to talk to Yukinoshita out of boredom.

Not today buster!

Talking to her is worse than playing real life minesweeper. It's impossible not to get hurt. I won't talk to her, never shall I, so stick it up your asses.

I plopped down my sheets again. The TV noises meshed with the background, the interval sound of Yukinoshita flipping a page, and the consistent tick-tocking of the clock above.

Time won't be waiting for me, not for my death, nor for the end of my boredom.

Hmm...that was weirdly grandiose of me.

Could it be that I, Hikigaya Hachiman, am reverting back to chuuniism?

No!

I have suppressed this revolting feeling of mine. This tempting desire to embarrass myself in hopes for perpetuating a delusion of grandeur!

I have a mouth, and I can't scream! **[10]**

Can't do it here, too many people.

A book flip was all I need to confirm that she was still there.

Too many people.

The clocked ticked more. It cared not for my plight. Well, no one did really. So I'm not too concerned.

Was there anything new?

Bringing my hand down, I slapped both of my cheeks, trying to keep awake.

If there's even a point to keeping awake.

It's been three hours since I woke up from my nap in the morning, and while it was already approaching the evening hours, Yukinoshita appeared. And for the next hour hours, she hadn't spoken a single word to me, other than commenting about my alleged stench. And while that was a zero-sum game for all parties involved, I have nothing to do. The bed is warm beneath me, and the blankets are covering my legs, but lady sleep still doesn't want to embrace me into her world yet.

Do I repulse you that much?

Usually, in anime, this is the point where something really amazing happens and I'm transported to another world filled with fantasy and the bizarre. Maybe literal, maybe metaphorical. Something magical should happen, something extraordinary.

A lot of the times, the main characters would be whining about how mundane their life is. Perhaps that way they'd lull the reader into thinking expecting something amazing to happen, only to subvert it. But light novel authors aren't that smart. They'd fulfill your expectations to a tee and make you read twelve grueling pages of exposition.

Still…

Might as well give it a shot.

"I'm bored…"

"Must you say that every waking moment?" Yukinoshita said. Abrasive as always, her ice cold blue eyes glared at me.

I'll admit that I've been uttering that every ten minutes or so, but grant me this, woman, it was in the lowest possible volume I can muster! Only dogs and bats could hear it!

"Don't I have freedom of speech?"

Saying that, she rolled her eyes, as if I told her that the sun was green.

"That only applies to humans. I don't recall you being a human."

That stung a bit.

I am human. I have feelings too!

"Remind me what you're doing here again, Yukinoshita?" I asked, scratching my cheek, feeling the roughness that came with dry skin.

Ugh, I should wash my face.

"Your mother gave me permission to visit you whenever I like. As part of your rehabilitation, I will be monitoring your progress whenever possible. Do not misunderstand though. You are an experiment. Think of this as a lab rat being observed."

I couldn't help but facepalm while I sagged on my bed, letting out a loose sigh... this again.

"I told you already, didn't I?" I said, glaring at her through open fingers. "I don't need help."

She snapped her book shut, startling me. Her face, for the moment, turned solid. Unmoving, as if forcing herself to lose all her ties to the material world, as if she's gone to the state of perfect harmony. Ever so slightly turning to look at the old men huddling under the only Television set.

Her crystal blue eyes wandered to the TV.

I followed her gaze, overhearing them underneath as my focus readjusted, giving voice to the once mute men.

"Hideyoshi's really being a prick this episode."

Who was Hideyoshi? I looked up and found nothing.

Sunlight from the window blocked the screen white, preventing me to understand what they were talking about.

Not that it'd be a program I'd watch. Old coots have their dramas, while I got o'sizzle cool anime. Yo!

Oh God… I grimaced.

That was terrible. There wasn't even anything good to watch on Wednesday. Following industry logic, Wednesday was the day where reruns of episodes occur.

But, still, I'd kill for some entertainment. Vita-chan, or a light novel, or hell, even a regular one. Persona seemed to be all the rage now. I downloaded it on Vita-chan a week ago but still haven't played.

Another source of my entertainment would be musing about how to kill people in my notebook. Sadly, I don't have it, and the only pieces of paper near me was my homework for the week.

Those old men were prime and close targets too. They took my TV time and I shall take theirs!

Hehehe…

Better add them to the list.

My gaze flickered once again to Yukinoshita, curious. She couldn't see the screen, because I couldn't see it. But why was she so intently staring at it?

The sunbeams traced an outline around her... softness of the angles of her face, the glittering blue of her eyes, her lips faint pink, full and gleaming.

I could spend forever admiring her features, like a masterfully sculpted art piece in the museum. Perhaps like a novel, or a film, analyzing every single aspect. Every single thing that created it.

She carried herself like an art piece too, so open to the world, her thoughts aren't hidden. That aspect of hers was prominent from when we first met.

"You know it's rude to stare," she said. "I'd rather not a dead fish look at me. It reminds me of the time I went to the flea market."

She shuddered. "Everything was unkempt, and had a dirty feeling to it." Her examining eyes washed over me for a split second. "Exactly what I'm feeling from you."

Though I wish she'd have more of a filter to her mouth. Regardless, my head turned faster than if it was hit by her car.

"I wasn't staring at you, you were just in the way," I asked. "If looking at someone's general direction is staring, then you should apologize to the three gentlemen over there."

Her eyes curled to a smile.

"I'm watching the television."

"Bull," I said, "You can't see anything from here."

"You're right," she closed her eyes, "I was avoiding looking at you. But somehow you managed to get through me, despite that."

Her words were brutal as yesterday's were.

Gravity pushed my gaze down back at the sheets. As honest as she was, it still stung. If someone said to you that a stab in the back was more painful than a punch to the face, then he must be a tortured individual. Stabs in the back deal with the things you don't know, while punches in the face deal with what you know. Eventually, getting punched in the face gets easier, but boxers usually get a lot of mental damage throughout their career.

With a punch to the face, you can at least block it.

Which is what I needed.

A slight wind blew upon a stack of papers that were left scattered beside my bed. A lone page flew into my lap, its blue bolded title, "Science Homewo—"

Nope.

I'm not doing this.

Strangely though, my vision was still dragged down onto the piece of paper.

The page had the standard multiple choice lines with a few spaces in between. Five answers for one question. Six questions on this page alone. Dark marks and lines drawn on one, with words circled randomly, and one answer checked.

The rest were completely blank.

Yep, done enough.

Blackness covered my vision as I closed my eyes.

It wasn't worth it.

It was futile. That student-assaulting nut job of a teacher won't be back until Monday next week.

I shook my head. Resolute in my reasoning, I looked around for anything — anything! — that might free me from these shackles of boredom.

Only for my wandering eyes to land upon an innocent piece of paper, its edges blending in neatly with the ivory-colored blankets, with the only thing that indicated it to be as such being the nearly unintelligible mass of shadowy horror known as graphs and multiple choice sloshed on the pristine _white_ —I realized with widened eyes—and most importantly, _blank_ spaces within parchment.

I sucked a breath. Realization crept into my head, subtly manipulating my actions, then my thoughts and feelings.

Heh.

Looks like I beat you, rom-com gods!

Time to make my own entertainment.

Leaning slightly to the side, I discreetly reached for the mechanical pencil on the desk. I don't know why I'm doing this discreetly, but I rationalized that I must be bored enough to pretend being Indiana Jones **[11]**. Perhaps that was it, but I didn't care either way.

Tip touched paper, and my hand waltzed with the pencil in its hold. Dark lines appeared once more on the once blank spaces. But this time it wasn't to find an answer, it was to form an image.

First, doodles of animals. Can't get wrong with that right?

There was little to understand why animals first. I'm pretty confident in drawing them. Often, during art classes, I'd paint a scene from a documentary that stuck to my mind.

Penguins. The sharp, yet soft incline of the dark wings. Their slightly curved beaks and stout, blubbery but strong upper bodies, designed for swimming through the harsh waters of arctic.

When I was a kid I had always been fascinated by them.

I drew several of them together, huddling, and sprinkled in lines as if they were hiding from a great wind, or the wrath of some god too lazy to actually draw in the blizzard. Depends on which perspective you view it from.

I view it on my own.

But yes, lots of them. Their strong beaks were raised above, defiance against the forces of wind and snow. They could do this because they had the power of numbers.

They were strong together. Like any other social animal. Yet unlike humans or any of the animals capable of socializing, they never protected each other. When the narrator compared them to human civilization, I thought of soldiers or policemen. They protect other humans irrespective of immediate familial relation. Or so they should.

I watched one video where a baby penguin was being pecked by predator birds, yet the penguins around it were just watching, unwilling to help. I asked why this was so, and they just said, " _It's because they're animals."_

Of course a few days later I asked for help, but none of the teachers came to my aid, or even if they did, they never gave any concrete or meaningful advice. Sometimes I wondered if we really evolved from our animalism.

"Your penguins are too amateurishly drawn, Hikigaya-kun," Yukinoshita spoke from next to me, "Perhaps add more detail and less impressionism to your drawings."

I scrambled to create some distance between us.

You're too close! Too close!

Composing myself, I pointed at the paper with my mechanical pencil.

"It's a blizzard, see? It's supposed to be hazy, you're looking at them while wind and snow howl past you."

"Is that what those lines where? Perhaps you should practice drawing lines instead, Hikigaya-kun."

I ignored her jibe. I was doing this to ignore her damn it.

"You can ignore what I say but you can't ignore what you created."

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

My pencil dipped on the white field.

Bears. The drawing on this was a little trickier to do. The fur needed to have volume, thickness, but at the same time hiding what truly is behind those strands of fiber. Beneath that fur…

"You drew the legs backwards," commented Yukinoshita.

I gritted my teeth. Ignoring her, I proceeded once more to monologue.

...lied a truly fascinating anatomy. Their faces were like a cone. Flat on the eyes, but a long dog's snout extending with rows of teeth powerful enough to break bone.

As I grew older, while my fascination with penguins began to fade, I started getting interested in bears.

After all, they were big and strong like gorillas, but have a better reputation than them. You wouldn't want to be called a gorilla, but being called a bear means you're cute and cuddly and strong.

Strong, thick arms like tree trunks, to carry the weight of the several hundred kilograms of muscle and fat, and still manage to run 40 km/h at top speed.

Plus, they protect their own, even if they grow hungry. When the incident with Komachi happened, I imagined myself to be the bear, hungry but still protecting my own.

I finished with a flourish of the dark beady eyes.

"This bear is better drawn than your penguins. Have you practiced a lot, Hikikuma-kun?" she said.

"Please don't call me as if I'm a bear in hibernation. It's spring," I replied. Inwardly, I was laughing.

"How lazy of you to keep hibernating despite it being spring."

I paused for a moment

"Clearly, I'm drawing, not hibernating. Perhaps you need an appointment to the oculist?" I said, a bit more harshly than I intended.

"You should draw a feline, Hikigaya-kun," she said as if she did not hear my last sentence.

Don't you ignore me, you demon superwoman!

But then, I had this sudden urge to draw Kamakura. Something more familiar, closer to home from all those wild animals. I puffed my version out a bit. His snow white hair poofed and prickled out, and tail swished in the air. He grew fatter, but cuter. While his eyes glistened in the shading to imitate sunlight basking down upon him.

It's great and all, but…

What was that?

Yukinoshita grabbed the paper out of my hands. Her eyes sparkled. The shadow of her slender hand tracing Kamakura.

"This cat is drawn magnificently, Hikigaya-kun, as expected," she said, seemingly lost in her imagination.

"What do you mean 'as expected'? You had no input in its creation! Don't talk as if everything was under your machinations!" I shouted, grabbing the paper. My hand was stopped midway as she put up resistance. Still, her face had a strange quality to it, almost as if she was walking in a fantasy.

"Hikigaya-kun, I strongly urge you to relinquish your hold on..." she clawed my hands, trying to pry them open. "...that."

She was clearly in Lunacia. I had no idea a cat would have this much effect on her.

"I still need this! I'll give it to you after it gets checked by Sensei! Look at what you're doing to the picture, you're ruining it!"

I grabbed her hand and tried to open her palm. Her hand was soft, like a feather brushing against my finger. She pulled my wrist and forced it to bend. I grunted in pain.

She shook her head and let go.

What's with this crazy woman?

We sat in silence as I smooth out the now crumpled paper. The portraits were still there, just a bit smudged out.

A few beats later.

"None of this gets out of this room."

"Alright."

Note to self, never show her Kamakura.

Looking back at the drawing, I wasn't surprised at how clearly I remember his features. There was a time where I wanted to draw after watching Sai from Naruto make his drawings come alive. **[12]** I had a variety of muses. Lamps, carpets, other paintings. I even had people as muses, though I sat on a bench at the park under the shade of a tree. They didn't know I was drawing them, or perhaps they did, but still wanted to be drawn.

I wonder if I could still draw them, by memory.

They say if you can remember someone clearly, it must mean that you loved them dearly. I should be able to remember them enough to draw them, I bet. Often, I had family members as muses.

I took a memory of an early morning in the Hikigaya household. A snapshot of what we go through in our daily rituals.

My father, as he sipped his morning cup of coffee while reading the news. His glasses that fell down slightly on his nose, while his tired eyes were stuck reading the same page for several minutes.

My mother, whose quiet humming, decorated the whistling of boiling teapots in the morning. Where the quiet morning light splashed on her face like flowers underneath a sunrise.

Or Komachi, with an opened mouth from a yawn, her eyes still sleepy as she rubbed them awake. A blanket covering her shoulders as she walked towards the table, huddling to keep warm from the cold spring morning.

I felt a tapping on my shoulder.

Yukinoshita held her hand out. "May I?"

I glanced at her with narrowed eyes in suspicion. If she so much crumples this… I was handing her my family after all. Should I?

Ultimately, I gave it to her, after she kept holding out her hand like a child pining for candy.

"Sure."

She held up to her eyes, often changing perspectives and moving it around. The way she focused her eyes on the illustration popped a cork in my head, the fizziness rushing into it. I was ecstatic that someone was giving my work a proper look. I never had someone outside my own family do that.

"You're a very good artist," she finally said.

That made me giddy.

Blushing, I held my arm and scratched my cheeks. "Nah, I'm a second-rate artist. I draw pretty much for myself so I don't know how it compares to others."

She gave the assignment-turned-illustration paper back to me. "Frankly speaking, you're still rough around the edges. But your work is honestly amazing for an amateur."

"Thanks."

Seems that Yukinoshita can be nice.

I yawned, stretching my fingers. The piece was laid in front of me. On the page were sketches of my family members, all in various forms of morning disarray. I hadn't realized that I was filling in the blanks with them, but I did enjoy how cutely Komachi came out.

Komachi, it seems, is cute whenever, and wherever seen.

Hah.

Scanning the page, and specifically Komachi's image, reminded me that I still had one more blank space left. In what supposed to be the student's own notes or whatever he uses to complete the problem, I drew out what has been bugging me.

The fact that I can't recall _her_ features well anymore.

I'm sure that I'll get it by instinct.

In my head all that I could think was to draw a waifu. Waifu. Yes, the head was perfect. All I need to do now was—

"You've captured my likeness well," she spoke up.

Air passed my throat and out, and back in again.

I clutched the shirt over my heart, "Gah! Don't scare me like that. You'll give me a heart attack! "

"My!" she covered her smile with a hand, "I didn't know you were both weak-willed and weak of heart."

"Anyone would have a heart attack if someone snuck up to them..." I grumbled. "And yes, I am the weakest willed of them all." I joked.

She smiled. Smugly so. It pissed me off.

"Actually, I'm not so weak-willed."

"A person who changes their word often is considered a sign of lack of will," she argued.

"No, what I said was in jest," I said.

She flicked a stray lock of hair behind her.

"I can remember you failing to defend yourself yesterday, stuttering and failing to form syllables in any known human language." The subject was shifted to what happened two days ago, to an argument that I was too surprised and unprepared for. In spite of what happened yesterday, I was prepared for this.

You see, with normies, whenever they lose an argument they lose their sleep in favor of thinking of ways they should've defended. I am above that. I think of the ways to defend my argument, _and_ the ways that I could come back in the future.

My own experiences molded me. You see, when you become the butt of a joke, you can expect it to happen several times in the future. As such, to defend against it, one must pre-prepare a comeback so meticulously planned that you just knew that person lost sleep because of it.

Thus, it was time for my attack.

"Really," I raised an eyebrow, "I thought you understood that."

"As if I would understand—"

I held a hand up. She shut herself up but the look in her eyes told me that she wanted an explanation.

"I mean, a normal human would've introduced themselves…" I prefaced my argument with a feint. Will she take it?

She interrupted.

"I did, get to the point."

Baited.

I smiled, squinting. She grimaced, looking beyond my face.

"In a _normal fashion._ " I was enjoying the look of confusion on her face, as if she didn't know what I was talking about. "No chuuni shenanigans like jumping off a window to get down." Her big blue eyes widened and once more I was struck with how cute she actually is without her constant look of superiority.

She was indeed a beautiful girl, the same one I met that night.

Despite that, I couldn't let up my attack.

"I don't know how you did it, but I sure as hell know that the police would be asking me, and a lot of people, questions if they find a dead body splattered on the ground like that."

"I don't see how my understanding of your complete gibberish would correlate to my j-jumping off the window," she was fuming, red in the face.

I grinned.

I suppose that someone recalling what you did in a deadpan voice makes it sound that you did something stupid. Add in him grinning and you get double the damage. It was brutal, and she knew it, with her eyes closing and waiting for inevitability.

It almost made me pity her.

Almost.

No mercy.

"Because a normal human wouldn't have jumped off a window in the first place."

She sucked on her breath and glared at me.

I could feel her hatred boring into me with those eyes. In normal circumstances, I would've bowed out and left the clearly hostile lady in front of me. However, while this was a normal circumstance, our first meeting was anything but normal.

No matter whether meeting at a car crash or near a hospital window, it was anything but normal.

And that really just takes away all the pretenses, you know?

Besides, I was already in a hospital. The emergency room was close by.

A few moments passed. I sat there on my hospital bed, basking in the glory of outwitting a human of the female gender. I was happy, no, I was ecstatic. It meant that I was rising up to the normie ranks.

See ya fags.

I'm a normie now.

Suddenly, she spoke, breaking me out of me reverie. Sad. It was a fun reverie too.

"I suppose that you have a translation for that gibberish too?"

"Huh?" I was completely out of my reverie now. Looking at her, I asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I obviously didn't understand what you said," she said haughtily. "I suppose that makes me a normal human then? Either way, what have you said? In _normal_ Japanese, please."

Literally what.

This woman...

You don't just ask that. I can't explain it, but normal people don't fall into an open trap like that. They just don't.

I wanted to explain that to her but her eyes told me that she's expecting the answer to come out of my mouth, and only the answer. I shut my mouth before I said the wrong thing.

Sighing, "I already told you the translation."

"Oh, and what's that."

"You don't know how I lived my life, so you can't force those beliefs you have on me."

Silence reigned in. I could see her wanting to say something, but ultimately stopping herself from saying it. It was really telling when someone was doing that. Their eyes would dart around, trying absorb information that would trigger a memory, or a thought, experienced in a similar situation. When they come up blank they just stare at you for a few moments of intense concentration. Then stop, and breath in.

She was at the staring at me stage. Those blue pools gazed at me, and I wondered what she wanted to say.

Then the breathing in stage. She calmed herself, resigning to the fact she couldn't say anything. Crossing her legs, she spoke once more.

"I see."

And with that, silence.

I was struck at how much time it took her to process it.

Why she couldn't do the process quicker might be due to the fact she never had this particular set of circumstances happen to her.

I don't know what circumstances.

I don't know what it had got to do with me.

But, once again I was given a view something no man should ever see in reality.

The fabled ZR.

I wondered if I was in a coma and this was all a dream.

I realized that it would make for a terrible plot-twist when I wake up.

"Why are you here, exactly?"

I asked once more.

She didn't answer, instead, she opened her book and began to read.

"I must've pissed you off right? If you're ignoring me instead of entertaining me to, as I quote, "As part of your rehabilitation, I will be monitoring your progress whenever possible."

"I never said that I had to interact with you. " She set down her book. "I said do not misunderstand my intent."

"I'm an experiment, aren't I? You not interacting and seeing what makes me tick is deviant to the proper scientific process."

"If I recall correctly, observation is part of the process. I am indeed still doing an experiment."

"You seem to be failing at it."

"It is merely part of the preliminaries."

"This was the second time you almost gave me a heart attack, you know that right?" I pointed out jokingly. "You're this close to committing homicide. And ending your experiment prematurely."

"I would never!"

Never what? Kill someone or end your experiment prematurely?

She looked at me like I was a bug and that a bug's life was insignificant as its squealing. Or that's what I got from her gaze. If you peel the scorn and hatred away first.

She sighed and said, "The law does not include death by natural causes as homicide, Hikigaya-kun. Even a basic reading of the laws that govern our land would be beneficial for one living in it. In fact, they might consider you as a corpse that already died before it stopped moving."

Ah. Figures.

"What makes you say that?"

"Are you blind, Hikizombie-kun? Do you avert your own reflection in the mirror?"

I'm not that repulsive to myself!

"I just had an accident… " I muttered. A cry for help, or a cry to say I surrender and I'm beaten. It was either or.

She hummed. She glanced at me, then averted her gaze once more. Her face contorted, horror was on her eyes. She shivered in fright.

She spoke, and with that, established herself to be cruel to POW.

"Even then, from your constant deathly gaze, I assume that they'll write you off as a strange aeon that death may die from."

That was a so out of ways reference I almost thought that I was making it!

"Why are you quoting Cthulhu?" I asked, staring at her.

The only people who would do that would be either a sage, or a chuuni pretending to be a sage. To me, this over-dramatic tendencies of hers was a sign of her noblesse oblige. The textbook definition of a chuuni would be one who had this delusion of grandeur clouding their eyes. She has all the reasons not to have that delusion, yet she's here, spouting lines from a book.

This conflicts with what I thought of her.

I.e not a chuuni.

"I mean, I'm much of a Cthulhu fan as the next guy, but I don't think I just spout lines from the book randomly like that."

She stared back. This time her gaze was different. A bit more fonder, as if gazing back to an old friend.

She narrowed her eyes.

Or maybe I was delusional.

The latter was more likely.

Perhaps if I worded that question as to not sound redundant, I would've been spared her analytic yet ambivalent gaze.

Either way, I noticed her hand bring up a fairly large tome from... _where exactly?_

Sometimes chuuni-me believed in women having access to spaces within spaces that they hide all their hidden paraphernalia in.

Now I always believed in it.

"I happened upon a recommendation from a person I care for. Though I find his tastes to be a bit obscure, Lovecraft had been a wonderful read," she said, waving the book in the air.

A stylized cat was on the cover, which I'm pretty sure was hiding the true cover. The book itself was pretty thin, like a notebook.

Strange. Kinda like Lovecraft. Chuuni-me used to love that crap. It was hard to read, sometimes I thought that Lovecraft wrote with inducing in people to have headaches in mind, so I always took time to read a story of his.

They're not novels. At least by word count. According to the internet, a novel is over 50 thousand words long.

His stories were only a few pages long, but Lovecraft packed in words into those paragraphs like a can of sardines, which is why it felt like you were reading a novel with how slow everything was.

"Although, I wasn't exactly enthused by his tendency to over-word his sentences."

Ah, the irony.

Still, did she start at everyone's starting point? That usually turns off most people. It's a testament to her ability to read through that though and still enjoy it. It took me three tries before getting it.

"Did you start at Call of Cthulhu?" I asked.

To newbies, The Call of Cthulhu was hell to read through. And it was the first thing people recommend you to read when you wanted to get into Lovecraft. As if the hard to read through text would keep the normies away.

I don't know if someone like Yukinoshita was a normie or not. What I do know is that Yukinoshita never appeared normal to me.

"I didn't," she said, "I read the Dunwich Horror first. Who would read Call of Cthulhu for their first impression of Lovecraft?"

"I did read Call of Cthulhu first. I didn't enjoy it," I said. "Eventually I did in the end, but I wouldn't recommend it to newcomers frankly speaking. The fans often say to read it, but it just feels like a trial by fire instead of an actual recommendation."

"Of course you wouldn't enjoy it," she said matter-of-factly. "Your tastes are suited for trash."

"Oi! My tastes aren't trash. They're the epitome of culture."

"A person whom was trained to find trash more delicious than fine cuisine is always going to defend that his tastes aren't trash."

"You're reading something that I've read! Would that mean that your tastes are trash too?" I smirked.

She smirked back.

"Trash eaters will eventually enjoy fine cuisine, but fine diners will never enjoy trash."

Damn. Fuck this bitch.

"—right, anyway," I started again, after a spell of silence befell us for a moment.

Despite her bitchiness, I want to continue this conversation. Perhaps, just to sate my boredom. "There's a lot of things I enjoyed from his works, mostly on how dreamlike they are—."

"You should enjoy his Dreamcycle Series, then," she interrupted. There was a twinge of fire in her voice.

"Ah—his Dreamcycle Series was my favorite. I always dreamed of riding a horse down the roads of Celephais."

"The concept of a world of dreams is intriguing, I'll admit," Yukinoshita walked towards the window, the yellow dripping sun showering light upon her, "as an escape from reality. King Kuranes hated reality so much that he dreamed of being whisked away to the halls of Celephais."

"It's implied that he'd died," I pointed out.

"Just like all who dream but never do."

* * *

Even in a hospital, the lights have to dim eventually.

In this case, though, they had dimmed too much. With only the bright, yellow light coming from the nurse's station every odd room, walking through the dark hallways were only half a hassle. The silvery full moon outside barely illuminated the white floors, the walls, and the door numbers.

'1404' **[13]**

Not that.

A little farther down the hall, I think.

Better check.

Sliding open the door as quietly as I can, I peered through the room. A bluish light emanated from the wall beside me. In front of it, was a chair, and an old man who seemed to be falling asleep. His eyes were sealed shut.

Must be something boring. I bet my 300 yen allowance that he was watching a silent film, probably something as boring as Nosferatu. Or any of the 'classics' that most praise to be from the film-making golden age, while condemning any film made today. Can't really say anything about it myself, I'm not a film guy. All I know is that people from those times, would probably kill to have the technology we have now.

Sadly, he didn't seem familiar to me, so with what I assume to be a cat's silence, I closed the door…

Or I would've closed the door, if it wasn't for him suddenly speaking out.

"You, come here."

Was he talking to me? That was a possibility, but I doubt his old ears would've heard the door opening, or sliding, which was even more silent. He's probably speaking out into the air, a memory played in front of him, of something similar to what he did years ago. Clarity left his mind, as he aged, and all that was left was instinct.

I nodded. I had sufficient justification to not heed his words. With that, I turned around and started walking away.

Then, with an even louder voice, he called out once more, "You, come here."

Old man, I pity you, really... but sadly, I'm not your grandchild.

As I walked away, feeling faux pity for an old man who seemed to have lost his bearings, the door I left suddenly slid open. The subsequent thud was as loud as a brick being dropped into a tomb. It had also probably woken up some of the people from other rooms.

"Didn't your parents tell you it's rude to ignore a helpless old man in need?" came a voice behind me, "Where's your integrity."

"My parents also told me not to talk to strangers," I muttered under my voice, though quietly as I didn't want him to hear and call me out for my 'lip'. I slowly, and in the most frustrating manner I can, just to prolong his suffering, turned around.

"What was that?"

Or right, he was apparently able to hear the sliding door open.

Does this man have super-hearing or something? Was this is job in the war? Did he survive the Americans by looking for English words in a sentence amidst the jungles of a far away island somewhere?

Heh.

I smiled.

"What can I do for you, Ojii-san?" I strained, trying to sound polite. I really did try. However, I couldn't keep the scathing tone in my voice, and I found myself smiling like a loon, which, as I was told often, made me look like a loon. Mothers often tell their children to get away from loons right? I sincerely hoped that deep within his heart, that old and withered heart, he'd somehow remember those words that his mother gave him and give me peace.

"You seem to have manners after all, hmph," he grumbled without manners, "kids these days."

I felt an eye twitch.

"I was wondering if you could get me to the ATMs at the floor below," he said, "surely a strapping young'un like you would be willing to help an old man get his money, right?"

Trying to guilt trip me, eh? Unlucky of you old man, you're too late in applying that tactic against me, for I am immune. Komachi has _thrice_ the power level you have.

"I'm sorry," I said, with a placating voice that I knew wasn't placating at best, and condescending at worst, "it's very late, Ojii-san, I'm sure you can wait till the morning?"

"Son, my price is racking up, real high. If I don't pay all of these by tomorrow, I'd be sent to a different hospital. Do you know how many hospitals serve Takoyaki on fridays? Do you?"

As he said that, he raised an open hand. Then he closed it. "Nada. Zilch. Zero." He waved the same hand around, as if performing a magic trick, and the trick was making something appear from thin air. Except by the looks he was a horrible magician.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" I rebutted.

Seriously, with how fast he got to the door, he'd be perfectly fine with going to the elevator. Or teleporting to it.

Why would he need a person to help him get to the elevator?

"I'm blind."

Opening his eyes for the first time, I saw merely a clouded gaze looking back at me. It was eerie. His eyes seemed to look both at me and straight through me simultaneously. Until today, I'd never met an actual blind person. I had only seen them during homeroom when the teacher talked about random school topics and showed the class videos on whatever that topic was.

Oh. I see.

That certainly deflated me quite a bit. Now, I felt compelled to help the old man. I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with my inherent empathy for others that I haven't quite gotten rid of yet. I could've said that he'd be better to ask for a nurse rather than relying on someone he's just met, but well… damn my bleeding heart.

Come to think of it, aren't there buzzers on the side of the bed to ring to get the nurses to help you? Pretty weird that he's that desperate to ask someone he couldn't see.

"Alright, I'll help," I said, with finality. Even when I saw his grin stretch from cheek to cheek, as if he'd already done this before with another strapping young'un like me, I didn't leave him.

I tapped the crutch under my arm on the floor lightly. "Hear that?" I said. "Follow that, and don't worry about bumping into things. I'll tell you if there's something there."

And I lead him to the mystical yellow glow of the nurse's station.

My footsteps thumped lightly on the marbled floors. My slippers squeaked with each step, and the representative of senility behind me had a pleasant expression on his face. I frowned. I couldn't hear him other than the sound of his quiet laughter echoing the halls.

You don't have to rub it in, old man.

"Haaah."

"Don't sigh too much, boy," the old man said, "they'll make you age faster."

"Like you would know anything about that," I muttered.

"Of course I do, I'm an old man!" he exclaimed. Then he had a guttural laugh, but stopped when he found that he was the only one laughing. He sighed, still with closed eyes, and drew an expecting frown on his face.

"Did you want me to laugh?"

"No, well, I was expecting you to," he said, "never had someone not laugh at that, even awkwardly."

"Sorry," I apologized, "Ha... ha ha ha."

"Save it," he commanded, "the fun's all gone when the laughter is given by cue, rather than by free will."

We had arrived at the elevator. The steel gates reflected moonlight, gleaming in borrowed light, while the glowing red numbers changed as the elevator rose up to our floor… and passed that.

Huh, there must be someone using the elevator.

Whatever. I waited for it to go down to our floor. When it did, it opened with a cheery 'ting' and the two gates opened before us automatically. Before us, a brightly lit enclosed space, filled with all the colors of the rainbow. White, just like the the hallway before us.

Pushing the old man in, the enclosed space suddenly didn't feel as enclosed any more. Perhaps it was the mirrors, or perhaps it was the increased elevator size for accommodating entire beds. Whatever the case was, I was glad that I wouldn't be feeling cramped in this space with some old man. Say what you might, but that feeling was as uncomfortable as wearing a ball and chain around your neck.

"Say," the old man started, "you wouldn't know one Hikigaya Hachiman, would you?"

What's with people and knowing my name without my knowledge? Did I get famous overnight for trying to save that dog? Did someone video me and is a girl going to be awestruck by my heroics and basically force me into their friend group, and I'd have to follow their every whim with only the logic that it was what I wanted? **[14]**

Nah.

That's too far fetched. Even for me.

Still, would be fun if all those events happened exactly as I had laid it out. Maybe in another universe, where I didn't fuck up all the time.

Who am I kidding, I'd probably fuck up pretty much every universe. There's probably a universal constant named after me, by some sick god of misfortune that wears ribbons and frilly dresses, and likes to twirl around all the time. **[15]**

The Hachiman Variable. Or something like that.

"Well, speak up boy."

"You're talking to him."

"Ah, I see. I thought you'd sound a little more enthusiastic."

"It's late at night, I'd be surprised if I was enthusiastic to begin with."

"Are you certain?" he asked surprised, though it doesn't show on his face other than a slight raising of eyebrows.

My silence was answer enough for him.

He pointed at his eyes "You don't know with these eyes. Day and night seem to blend together. It's all the same for me, darkness."

"Wouldn't it be night all day then for you?" I asked.

"I'd not say. If I'm awake it's morning, if I'm asleep it's night. That's how I differentiate," he shrugged.

"I see," I said. "You must've had a strict sleeping pattern."

"I used to. Now I'm here I really don't have a reason to," he said. "My family doesn't visit."

The elevator rang a few times as we reached the ground floor. We weren't high up, just four floors above ground floor.

The silence bugged me out though, like it wasn't supposed to be there. I couldn't quite place it. Inflicted with the urge to speak, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"How do you know my name?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're whom Yuuna-chan talks about lately."

"Huh, you know her?"

"She's been in this hospital longer than I have. The only people who don't know who she is are people in comas."

I was incredulous. I didn't expect her claims to be true. But if they were…

"Do you happen to know why she's always around? I mean, wouldn't the staff figure out that there's a kid walking around the hospital?"

He laughed. No, he guffawed. As if I told him the funniest joke in all existence.

Jeez, you'd make a horrible teacher.

"Kid, she's the daughter of the one who owns the hospital!"

The door opened. But we stayed there for a few more moments, with the only sound being the laughs coming off his mouth.

"Oh," I said, finally.

I walked out, tapping my crutches every once in a while. The first floor was dimly lit as the floor we came from. But I could still recognize the letters on the sign in front of us.

'Wet floor' it said.

Come to think of it, it's the first time I've been to this floor. I didn't know the layout of this place. I was leading a blind man while I was essentially blind myself.

Oh shit—

A nurse appeared before me, walking to the other side of the reception hall.

"Wait!" I called out.

She turned and raised an eyebrow. "What do you need, umm...?"

"Hikigaya Hachiman." She put up a smile as soon as my name left my lips.

"Ah, Hikigaya-san. W-what is it that do you need?" Ah, she must be new.

"Can you lead me to the ATM machines?" I requested.

"Sure thing!" she chirped. "Watch your step. We just finished cleaning this area."

She led us to the ATM machine. There were three of them lined up in a row, all from various banks. The one in the middle was lit in the dim lighting turned the bright red into dark maroon, and the big, blocky white text grey. A lamp shone with yellow light decorated in pale opaque, glass right above it.

I turned to the old man.

"Well, go on."

"You don't need to tell me, you brat."

He walked to the machines, his gait confident and sure. Pumped out chest and relaxed but firm posture, he looked several years younger. Which probably isn't much.

He reached out. In his other hand was a credit card. Green colored.

Into thin air.

His hand moved as if pressing buttons, but the ATMs on his sides remained unchanged, showing the same screen of a bank I saw father use.

What was he doing…?

"Oji-san? The machine is next to you?" I phrased it as a question, more to myself than to him.

"Hikigaya-san!" I heard the nurse call out.

He grinned at me, and moved a few paces to the left. His card, a green card, slid into the red machine. But it remained unchanged.

Frustrated, I lumbered towards him. Meeting his gaze, but his not meeting mine, I said, "Oji-san!"

"What? Can't you see I'm working here, Komotsu-kun?" he addressed the machine, going back to pressing buttons that didn't change the screen.

Who's Komotsu?

"Hikigaya-san! Who are you talking to?" the nurse asked me.

I followed his hand.

His fingers weren't pressing the keypad.

Instead, it was flowing in and out of solid steel.

What?

My gaze flickered to her.

"What? Can't you see…?" I turned back to find the old man gone. In its stead, there was naught but a white butterfly, dancing in the air in front of the screen. I scanned the area, turning my head around, trying to find the old man.

"See what?" The nurse's confused smile only aggravated me. If she couldn't see the person, then she could see the butterfly right? This is a hospital! Insects shouldn't be able to get in.

The butterfly was still there, floating in the air, detachedly. It never wavered from its position and kept straight toward the screen, as if it were the one trying to manage it and not the previously mentioned old man. Then it floated away, passing through the still oblivious nurse's eyes.

"Nevermind." Walking away, the shuffles of the nurse's steps relayed to me that she was probably going to her post, probably going to talk about that weirdo kid she had to guide to the ATM, and probably not talk about that white butterfly that followed me back to the elevator.

The butterfly's eyes stared back at me when I glanced at it, the flaps of its wings echoing in the silent lift.

...

 **Omake by The Mighty Zingy**

"Because, your first kiss isn't what I wanted it to be. A car is not something you should share something that special with. I'm here to do it properly, seeing as you're incapable of that."

I froze at her words. She… she's what? G-g-gonna k-k-k-k-kiss me?

Her lips met my own and I instantly broke from my trance.

"T-This is the second time you've almost gave me a heart attack, you know that right, Yukinoshita?" I pointed out. "You're this close to committing homicide."

 **Omake by RalphZiggy**

"Just what sort of 'experiment' do you imagine you're performing with me, Yukinoshita?"

Large saphhire eyes regarded me, their blinking moved long curled lashes as she considered her reply.

"To put things in simple terms for your simple mind, it is a compatibility study, Hikigaya-kun."

"Not that I'd care how you judge me… but with what am I supposed to be compatible or incompatible?"

"With me, of course."

"… what? … "

Yukinoshita was becoming irritated.

"So you really remember nothing of the night before your accident. None of the events of that time left any impression on you whatsoever."

She did not ask, but stated two things as facts that were very bothersome to her. The night before? It was the night before my first day of school, but wouldn't I be sleeping that night? What was notable? My mind was blank.

Yukinoshita made a long sigh, reached into her bag, extracted and tossed a long thin plastic white stick onto the bedding over my chest. There were two pink lines in a little window at one end.

"Congratulations, Dad."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm very, very sorry. I'd like to explain myself but if you don't want to read it you can skip to the very end. That's where the TL;DR is.  
**

 **But first, credits to the people who managed to stick with this and drive me to write: The Mighty Zingy, The Quotable Patella, you guys really deserve those adjectives on your names. Mighty, because you've managed to stick with my disastrous writing process; Quotable, because you make some parts shine.**

 **As for the newest person I'll credit, SouBU for finalizing and giving your thoughts. I was apprehensive in posting this part, but thanks to all of you guys I can put it out.**

 **As for the explanation. It's my last year in middle school and the past three months have been hectic. A lot of my time was spent studying for the exams that seem to come up whenever we finished one, projects that were given only a month's time to complete, and a lot of preparation for entering a highschool. I did enter a highschool, which I'm thankful for.**

 **TL;DR: I am very, very sorry I was late.**

 **Also, if you find it confusing that there's a new part, that's just the editing phase. This is the new chapter, so sorry for that to.**

 **With love, Jin.**


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